No, Mia thought. No, no, no.

He was here in Sugar Falls? And he was her doctor? How had this happened?

“It’s you” was all he said. She stood there, stiff and numb, drinking in the sight of him but at a complete loss of what to say without looking foolish.

“You live here in Sugar Falls?” he asked when she remained silent. His eyes hadn’t blinked and hadn’t stopped their constant perusal of her. “And we’re meeting like this? How could this have happened?”

His words mirrored her own thought process so exactly that the nervous giggle she’d been trying to swallow almost bubbled out. But then he smiled as though Santa had just delivered a long-sought-after Christmas gift to him, and a familiar cold panic spread through her. Mia reached for the file, the one containing all her personal information, including the fact that she was now carrying this stranger’s child, and tried to yank it from his hands.

The hands that had so skillfully brought her body to life just two months ago.

* * *

Sugar Falls, Idaho: Your destination for true love!

From Dare to Due Date
Christy Jeffries

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CHRISTY JEFFRIES received her Juris Doctor from California Western School of Law. But drafting court documents and working in law enforcement was merely an apprenticeship for her current career in the dynamic field of mummyhood and romance writing. She lives in Southern California with her patient husband, two energetic sons and one sassy grandmother. Follow her online at www.christyjeffries.com.

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To my handsome, hardworking and tolerant husband. When I finally figured out what I was looking for, you ended up being there all along. I was beyond lucky when you called me back.

You are my heart.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

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

Copyright

Chapter One

The melting ice cubes in Mia Palinski’s vodka and tonic were symbolic of the way her future was dissolving before her eyes.

She’d just turned thirty, yet no matter how many times she’d told herself that it was time to come to terms with her new life, she still couldn’t shake the lingering wish that tonight it should’ve been her up on the stage of the Egyptian Theatre, pirouetting across the dance floor.

Watching the piano player on the opposite end of the bar, she wondered if the balding man once had bigger aspirations than playing old standards in the lounge of some swanky hotel in downtown Boise. Most performers did. At least she could take comfort in the thought that she wasn’t the only one not living her dream.

And while she didn’t begrudge her darling students their chance to shine in their roles as the fairy-tale wedding guests in the Idaho Youth Performing Arts’ rendition of Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty, Mia would have been more comfortable if she hadn’t been stuck backstage with Mrs. Rosellino, who thought her six-year-old daughter was going to be the next Martha Graham.

Along with most of the other dance instructors who had students performing in tonight’s ballet, Mia referred to the delusional stage moms as idealists. Because unless sweet Madison Rosellino miraculously developed a decent amount of rhythm and learned to keep her finger out of her nose during performances, the sweet and quiet girl would probably never make it to Juilliard.

Her eye gave an involuntary twitch at the memory of her own mother, who was so similar to the Mrs. Rosellinos of the world. Mia took a sip of her now diluted drink, trying to wash away the reminder of the well-meaning but overbearing woman who had pushed her only child into competitive cheer rather than classical dance. Rhonda Palinski had wanted all eyes on Mia and had forcefully maneuvered her daughter onto the football fields, where the stages were bigger, the lights were brighter and the crowds were rowdier.

Her phone vibrated on the smooth-finished walnut bar beside her glass. She saw a group text message from her friends Maxine Cooper and Kylie Gregson. She loved them and knew they wanted an update on how the Labor Day performance had gone, but she couldn’t bear to put on the brave face and pretend she wasn’t hosting a pity party for one in an empty hotel bar. She grabbed a handful of fancy nuts out of a silver bowl. At least she gave in to her self-commiserations only in first-class establishments.

Mia loved and hated nights like tonight. She loved the music and she loved the dancing and she loved watching her young students and their contemporaries get to display the talents that they had worked so hard on during summer rehearsals. She truly didn’t even mind the overbearing parents who expected their first-graders to be ballet prodigies and became annoyed when Mia didn’t push the kids harder.

But the thing she hated was the fact that she could no longer be the one on stage dancing. Thinking such a miserable thought made her feel like a jealous old has-been, an emotion she despised even more.

She rubbed her sore knee through the black satin fabric of her slim-fitting pants, and then took another sip, willing the throbbing to go away. One of her prescribed pills might help with the physical pain, but nothing could diminish the emotional trauma of having her dancing career cut short by a golf club–wielding stalker who couldn’t take no for an answer.

Nope. She wouldn’t go there. It was one thing to wish things had worked out differently. It was quite another to sit here and relive the scariest moment of her life. She pushed her drink away and decided to go upstairs to her suite, order several desserts from room service and scroll through the pay-per-view channel looking for an interesting movie that could take her mind off what could have been.

Keeping a low profile meant she didn’t get to travel the country as much as she once had as an NFL cheerleader, so Mia normally took advantage of these quick forays into what her neighbors termed the “Big City” and made the most of the plush hotel accommodations.

She’d grown up as middle class as they came, with most of her single mom’s child support checks going toward cheer camps and extra lessons. And while Mia was careful with her income as the owner of the Snowflake Dance Academy in the small town of Sugar Falls, Idaho, she wasn’t opposed to little splurges a couple of times a year—especially if they provided a quick, but safe, escape from the boring reality of her quiet existence.

And that was why she tried to ignore the text message that just flashed on her screen.

You’re a great dance teacher. We’re sure everything went perfectly. Don’t go back to your room and sulk. Go out and live it up. We dare you!

Yep. Her best friends knew her, all right. Which meant they also knew she had no intention of accepting their ridiculous dare.

As she lifted a hand to signal the bartender to bring her check, a man walked into the lounge, his quick steps purposeful. Mia instinctively turned in the opposite direction, away from the stranger, and hoped that the guy was simply meeting someone in the nearly vacant bar. Ever since that incident with Nick Galveston, she had been careful not to draw any unwanted attention to herself and normally didn’t hang out in cocktail lounges where traveling businessmen or lonely males might take any sort of interest in a young woman sitting alone at the bar.

She pulled her handbag closer to her. Why had she even stopped off here on her way back to her room? It wasn’t as if she was a big drinker or looking for companionship. But after seeing the girl who played Aurora receive a huge bouquet of flowers right before the curtain closed and knowing that she would never experience that thrill again, Mia wanted something stronger than chocolate lava cake with peanut butter ganache to drown out her sorrows.

Unfortunately, the newcomer bypassed several of the empty tables and headed directly toward the small bar, near where she was sitting. He was handsome in that clean-cut all-American-boy way. However, in her experience, most men who looked like that were anything but pure and innocent.

She tried to keep her gaze averted, not wanting to risk making eye contact with him. But the large mirror across the room allowed her to take in his appearance. He wasn’t overly large—just under six feet—and his suit was well tailored, but his silk designer tie was undone and hanging loosely around his neck. He didn’t even look in her direction as he pulled out the leather upholstered bar stool a couple of feet away. His brown hair was close cropped and his face was set in a serious scowl. If he hadn’t been dressed so well, she would’ve assumed he was in the military.

“I’ll take a Glenlivet, neat, please,” he said to the bartender. When the man still didn’t acknowledge her in any way, she relaxed her shoulders and attempted a covert glance down at his shoes.

She was no expert, but her friend Kylie had just ordered those same handcrafted Italian leather shoes online for her new husband. So Mia knew they cost more than the monthly rent on her small dance studio. Nope. The guy definitely wasn’t military because there was no way he would be able to afford to dress or drink that well on an enlisted man’s salary.

Her ears picked up the tinny sound of Harry Chapin singing about cats in cradles. The noise was in direct contrast to the piano and it took her a second to realize the song was a ringtone. His ringtone.

Whoa. This guy must have some serious daddy issues.

He fumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket before silencing it and setting it on the bar. It immediately rang again and he whispered a curse before jabbing his finger at the screen. He had nice hands. Strong and capable-looking hands. Hands that would feel wonderful on...

“GP? Hello?” The hearty male voice coming out of the small speaker interrupted her wayward thoughts and caused the man next to her to practically jump off his leather stool in surprise. “Are you there, GP? Can you hear me?”

The skilled-looking fingers she’d just been lusting over must have pushed the wrong button, accepting rather than ignoring the call.

“Stupid damn phone,” he said as he lifted the offending gadget off the bar and put it to his ear.

“No, Dad,” he continued. “I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

Mia took a sip of the drink she’d pushed away merely minutes ago, finding herself fascinated by the father-son drama unfolding right next to her. “You can’t change my mind,” she heard. Pause. “No, do not have them call me.” Pause. “Listen, we will just have to agree to disagree. Have a safe flight home.”

GP, or whatever his name was, looked as if he wanted to throw his now disconnected phone through the large window facing the quiet downtown street. The bartender brought the man’s drink and Mia signaled for her own check. Damn it. She should’ve left when he was on his call. She didn’t do angry confrontations.

“Sorry,” he said, as he slipped his cell back into his sport coat pocket. “I hate people who take personal calls in public places.”

He hadn’t looked in her direction at all, so it took her a moment to realize he was speaking to her. She lifted her eyes to his and had to grip the bar’s counter to steady herself when his hazel gaze met hers. A little pop exploded in her tummy and she suddenly felt like she was a fizzy bottle of champagne whose cork had just been released.

He was handsome. More than handsome. His clenched jaw was chiseled, yet serious, and his sad eyes didn’t look the least apologetic. Nor did they seem very predatory.

Her eyes were drawn to his hands again and she noticed something funny about the way his suit jacket hit his wrists. She realized the man was wearing cufflinks—and expensive-looking ones at that. They were small gold-plated squares that had some type of an insignia embossed on them—an anchor maybe, but she couldn’t tell for sure without getting too close.

And Mia knew better than to get too close.

Whoever this GP guy was, he seemed more upset with his father than intent on hitting on her. She kept her purse clenched tightly next to her side, but exhaled enough to loosen some of the tension in her body.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, as the bartender set a small leather folder in front of her. “I was just getting ready to go anyway.”

“Please, don’t leave on my account. I didn’t mean to disturb you. In fact—” he reached for her bill “—let me pay for your drink.”

“No,” she said a bit too loudly. “I’m not leaving.”

He looked at the bill she had scooped up before he could grab it.

“I mean, I was leaving. But not because of you.”

He smiled and his even white teeth softened his expression, making him appear more boyish, rather than hawkish. Swiftly, that fizzy sensation bubbled throughout her entire bloodstream. Wow. How strong had her vodka and tonic been? She would’ve stood up and ran out of the lounge, but she now couldn’t trust her normally well-muscled legs to hold her petite frame.

Harry Chapin began singing from GP’s pocket again. “Crap. I’m sorry, I have this new phone and I can’t figure out how to turn it off.”

He held up the ringing device with the contact name of “Dad” lighting up the screen. It was the same model as hers, and she was an expert at screening calls.

“Here,” she said, taking it from him. “You just tap on this red dot and then, once the call goes to voice mail, you go to Settings...” He leaned in toward her and she could smell his musky citrus cologne. She didn’t dare make eye contact with him again—not when they were this close. Instead, she stared intently at the screen as her fingers keyed in all the appropriate commands to effectively silence his phone.

“Then how do I turn it back on? You know, like next week when my dad calms down a little and finally accepts the fact that I want to live my own life and not follow in his footsteps?”

Yep, this guy definitely had daddy issues. But really, who was she to judge?

“Well, if he’s anything like my mom—” she couldn’t stop the shudder that raised bumps on her bare arms “—I doubt it will only take a week.”

“You don’t know the half of it. But I do need this phone for work, so as tempting as it might be, I can’t stay off the grid forever.”

She nodded at his true statement. As much as Mia had tried to hide out these past couple of years, it was impossible to disappear completely. At least not without losing a part of herself. And if she lost any more of herself, she wondered what would be left.

“In that case, you can just block his number like this, but still get calls from everyone else.” She tapped away at his screen. “Of course, this will only work until he catches on and tries calling from an unblocked number.”

“Hmm. Sneaky. But my father’s pretty resourceful, so I wouldn’t put it past him.”

“My mother learned to call me from my great-aunt Nonnie’s rest home, knowing I couldn’t not answer. I’m sure your dad will figure out a way eventually. I find it’s best to just take the call, let them lecture you for exactly two and half minutes and then pretend you have a UPS delivery at the door that you need to sign for and disconnect the call.”

The man who’d been called GP laughed loudly enough to draw the attention of the piano player and the bartender. If she thought his smile made her insides all bubbly, his laughter made her want to melt.

Seriously, what kind of person made jokes about wacky family members with someone she’d never even met? Apparently, the same person who was still sitting here grinning like a giddy schoolgirl at the good-looking man.

He slipped his phone back inside his inner jacket pocket and when he did so, his hand rooted around before pulling out something else. He tossed a velvet-covered box on the bar and then looked up to the ceiling before running his hand over his forehead. The case looked like something that would hold jewelry—an engagement ring perhaps. The thought that this man was walking around with such an item, yet appeared to be so frustrated and let down, made her wonder what exactly had happened to him earlier this evening.

“That’s a pretty swanky-looking box,” Mia said.

“My father thought so when he gave them to me.” The man opened the case to reveal a set of black onyx cuff links, the initials GPM embossed in gold over each one.

“They’re very nice.” Mia forced a polite smile, wondering why the man had such a wry look on his face.

“He said they’re to remind me of who I am and where I came from.” GP, whose last name must begin with an M, took another drink of his scotch. “The irony of the gift is that my father detests cuff links. In fact, he hates the way I dress altogether.”

Mia leaned back so she could get a better look at his suit. As far as she could see, the man was dressed impeccably. Sure, maybe it was a little too tailored, a bit too metropolitan chic for Idaho standards. After all, this was Boise. Who wore such luxurious accessories in this part of the country?

Bolo ties, yes, but cuff links, no.

Maybe his father was some potato farmer who thought his son had gotten a little too fancy for his britches. Her own mother was the exact opposite. Every time she saw Mia, she chastised her for wearing her workout clothes around town and told her she had the potential of landing the coveted position of trophy wife, if only she’d put in some effort with her appearance.

“I take it your father isn’t a suit man?”

“You could say that. Dad likes to describe himself as anti-establishment. He’s what you’d call a free spirit and prefers to dress like he’s just been eighty-sixed from a Beach Boys concert. Which never made sense to me, considering his education and what he does for a living. He calls me his rebel child.”

“You don’t look like much of a rebel,” she said. He looked like an international businessman about to close a multibillion-dollar deal.

“I’ll tell him you said so next time he calls.” He gave the jewelry case a slight tap and it slid down the smooth bar a couple of inches. “So two and a half minutes, huh?”

He took another sip of the single malt scotch that was the exact shade of his eyes. Sheesh. Why did she have to look at those eyes of his again?

“Yep. I’ve got it down to a science. Anything less and they’ll feel like they were short-changed and will only call back later. Anything more and it becomes the snowball effect, picking up speed and intensity and then there’s no interrupting them once the full sermon gets going about all the sacrifices they made for you and how you’re throwing away opportunities.”

“I feel like I should be taking notes. Please, let me buy you a drink. You can tell me the top five best excuses for getting out of Thanksgiving family dinners.”

She should’ve politely refused, grabbed her jacket and purse, and walked as quickly to the elevator bank as she could. But she thought of her own prospects for the holiday that was only a couple of months around the corner, and the hard, familiar lump of loneliness wedged in her throat. When was the last time she’d talked with a man who wasn’t a well-known neighbor or hadn’t been vetted by her two closest friends?

He must have sensed her vacillating because he shot her that boyish smile. “What are you having?”

Her nerve endings fizzled again and, before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Champagne.”

He looked doubtfully at the glass sitting in front of her—the one containing clear liquid and the remnants of a lime—and then raised his perfectly arched brown brows at her before asking the bartender to bring a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

A whole bottle? What had she been thinking?

Maxine and Kylie would’ve told her she’d been thinking with her lady parts. Then they’d have high-fived her for double downing on their dare and told her it was about time she tested the waters of the romance pond. It had been so long, it wouldn’t hurt to just dip her toe in.

Hopefully, she wasn’t already in way over her head.

* * *

Garrett McCormick had been having the most frustrating evening of his life when he’d aimlessly wandered into the deserted lounge at the upper-class hotel. And that was saying something considering he’d been a battlefield surgeon in some of the hottest combat zones in the world. When he’d stormed out of the five-star restaurant down the street, leaving his argumentative and overbearing father at the table, he’d wanted a stiff drink and the kind of solitude he knew he couldn’t get from the downtown college bar scene or from the officer’s club near the Shadowview Military Hospital, where he was on staff.

He’d been so angry and so intent on downing something that would steady his nerves, he hadn’t even noticed the petite raven-haired beauty sitting at the bar. If he had, his internal warning bells would’ve gone off and he’d have found another place to sit.

When his cell phone rang, he’d been startled and his embarrassment had forced him to take in his surroundings. What he’d told her was true—he hated people who were so self-important they answered their phones in public places, forcing strangers to have to listen to their private calls.

Yet, he wasn’t sorry if his obnoxious telephone etiquette was the reason he now sat talking with her. She was wearing a strapless sequined top, and a black satin jacket hung off the back of her high leather chair. The shiny material matched her form-fitting black pants, making him think she was wearing some sort of feminine tuxedo. But softer. Sexier.

Considering it was almost eleven o’clock on a weeknight, she must’ve been at some fancy party before stopping into the hotel lounge for a nightcap. Either that or she was just all dressed up and on the hunt for some lonely traveling businessman.

He knew the types well. The gold diggers, the celebrity seekers, even the bored soccer moms who got their kicks by meeting random strangers at bars for one-night stands. But there was something about her shimmering blue eyes that made her look more like a scared rabbit than a prowling sex kitten. Besides, she was beautiful, but not in that surgically enhanced “tries too hard” way.

That was the first thing he shied away from when it came to women. His father was a plastic surgeon turned television producer who specialized in shows about surgical enhancements and makeovers. If there was one thing Garrett knew, it was artificial beauty. And he’d spent the past fifteen or so years of his life trying to get away from Med TV and the people who perpetuated that false and pretentious ideal.

He swallowed back his scotch just as the ice bucket and champagne showed up. The bartender set two glasses in front of them and, while Garrett had been intent on keeping company with only a bottle of Glenlivet Eighteen, his plans for tonight had suddenly taken a different turn.

“Here’s to parents who don’t know when to let go,” he said as he tipped his champagne flute toward hers.

“Here’s to a lot of people who don’t know when to let go.”

Garrett didn’t know if her added comment was in reference to someone else she knew or if it was a premonition that they were both too uptight and needed to cut loose. He chose to focus on the latter because, after all, once he was discharged from the navy next week, he would be letting go of everything and starting his life all over again.

“So how far away did you have to move to get away from your parents?” he asked, wanting to get to know her better. She took a sip and tilted her head, as if pondering how much personal information she wanted to share with him. After all, they were two random people sitting in a bar. Who opened up to a complete stranger?

“My mom lives in Florida.”

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Not originally. We moved a lot when I was a kid. My mom was a bit of a flake when it came to herself, but as her only child, she was always seeking greater opportunities for me. She’d hear about some new dance troupe or a hyped-up instructor and she’d pack up all of my tights and leotards and off we’d go.”

“So you’re a dancer?”

“I was,” she murmured before finishing off her glass. “What about you? Did you have to go far to get away from your parents?”

He took the hint that she didn’t want to expand on what might be a personal subject and refilled her glass. “I moved away from home the day after my high school graduation, much to the chagrin of my dad and stepmothers.”

“Stepmothers plural?”

“Well, Dad has gone through his share of wives. Not at the same time, mind you,” he clarified when it looked as if she was going to choke on her champagne. “But most of them kept in touch with me, even if it was only for the length of time they received their alimony checks.”

“My mom always hoped for an alimony check. But she and my father never got married so she had to make do with lowly child support. I never got it, you know?”

“The child support? She didn’t use it for you?”

“No, she did. I meant that I never got that whole depending-on-a-man-for-money mentality. I guess, sure, men should pay for their kids and stuff, but I always thought it would just be easier to make a clean break from the loser and start fresh. Support yourself.”

Wow, some guy must’ve really done a number on this lady. While it was refreshing to hear that there was a woman out there who wasn’t looking to get rich off some unsuspecting meal ticket, Garrett couldn’t help thinking of all the fake blondes back home who’d made it more than clear that they would love nothing more than to gain access to his large trust fund or the rolling cameras that constantly surrounded his family.

“I couldn’t agree more,” he said, raising his glass in an acknowledging salute. After all, cutting ties was exactly what he’d done when he’d left home at eighteen. He’d had access to everything his family’s money could buy. But it came with the heavy cost of bowing down to his father’s will and his father’s lifestyle. “In fact, that’s why my dad and I were arguing tonight. He doesn’t understand why I want to support myself and make my own decisions—live my own life.”

“My mother and I have had that same conversation multiple times. My girlfriend says that when I become a mom myself, I’ll understand.” Garrett made a mental note of the fact that she didn’t have kids. She wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, but that didn’t mean much to some women. “She said to think how sad I’d be if my mom stayed out of my life because she didn’t care about me at all. But you know what? I think I could live with that kind of sadness.”

He nodded his head in earnest. “I’ve been told the same thing. Yet, most of the time it doesn’t feel like caring. It feels like an ego trip. Like he doesn’t necessarily want the best for me, he just wants my life to be a reflection of his accomplishments and his success.”

“Yes!” she agreed and they clinked glasses again.

Here was someone who got it—who understood what his unorthodox childhood had been like. His head was lighter and his smile was freer. He must be feeling the effects of the scotch. Or the champagne. Or maybe a combo of both. “I don’t think it matters what we tell our parents, though. It never seems to sink in.”

“It probably never will,” she said. “Ten years from now, you and I could meet up in this same bar and we’ll be voicing the same complaints.”

“Promise me that in ten years, we will,” he said more seriously than he intended. But here was a kindred spirit. A woman who knew exactly where he was coming from.

“Oh, I don’t know. That sounds a bit pathetic.”

“Meeting up with me again?”

“No. That we’ll still be so stuck in our issues that we’ll need to travel back to Boise just to commiserate in our overbearing parents support group.”

She was right. They did sound a little pathetic. And that was the last thing he wanted a charming and genuine woman to think about him. “So Boise isn’t home for you?”

She darted her eyes to the left before reaching for the chilled bottle and refilling their glasses. “I’m in town for a ballet performance. I’m going home tomorrow.”

That explained the fancy outfit—and allayed his fears that she was a local groupie or some suburban wife out looking for an anonymous fling.

God, she was beautiful. Her high cheekbones, her pale blue eyes, her creamy skin. She was turned facing him, her legs crossed with one of her kitten heels hooked into a lower rung of the bar stool.

“You have a gorgeous collarbone,” he finally said, unable to look away from her.

“Did you say collarbone?”

“Yes.” He reached out a finger, tracing the ridge between her neck and her shoulders. He heard her sharp intake of breath, but he was well and truly buzzed and unless she moved away or told him to stop, he planned to touch her smooth, velvety skin for as long as she’d let him. “I’ve always had a thing for clavicles.”

Yep, he was definitely on his way to being intoxicated. Any more booze and he’d be calling things by their biological Latin terms.

She held herself completely still, but her tongue darted out and licked her full lips. “Why is that?”

“I just find them incredibly sexy. And real. It’s one of the few parts on a woman’s body that can’t be surgically enhanced.” He looked up into her eyes and saw her dilated pupils. Tonight, he didn’t want to worry about his father, or the new practice he was opening next month. He just wanted to think about the incredible woman in front of him. His hand trailed down her arm and settled onto her waist, and still she didn’t move away.

“I also find you incredibly sexy and real,” he said right before dipping his head and placing his mouth on hers.

She made a slight sound that could have been a moan or a protest, but she didn’t pull back. He tilted his head and opened his lips, coaxing her mouth to accept more of him. When she finally opened up, she welcomed his tongue wholeheartedly and responded by wrapping her bare arms around his shoulders.

He tasted the champagne on her tongue and wanted to drink her up. He wanted to feel all of her, but these damn bar stools were making things awkward. Without breaking contact, he rose to his feet, bringing their heads to the same height. He groaned when she allowed him to deepen the kiss, and he brought his other hand up to her waist to pull her closer.

A discreet cough, followed by the bartender’s voice announcing last call, finally cut through the fog of passion that had overtaken him. He pulled back his head but didn’t release his grip, wanting to maintain as much physical contact as he possibly could without drawing any more attention.

“I’ve never kissed anyone like that in a public place,” she said, her voice much huskier than it had been earlier. The pink flush creeping up her cheeks could have been from embarrassment or could have been from desire. He was hoping it was the latter.

“Would you like to try it again in private place?”

“Like where?”

“Well... I could get a room...” What in the hell was he thinking? He didn’t go around propositioning women in hotels. But it wasn’t as if he could take her back to the officers’ barracks. And he definitely wasn’t ready to let her go.

His emotions were storming at top speed, and the alcohol he didn’t normally consume wasn’t helping him think straight. Yet for once in his life, he didn’t want to think straight. He ran his fingers along the satiny waistband of her pants and wondered what kind of undergarments she could possibly be wearing underneath.

She looked around at the mostly empty bar and again lightly licked her lips, which had remained mere inches from his own. “I already have a room.”

Garrett didn’t bother to ask her for clarification. Pulling his wallet out of his pocket, he peeled out two one-hundred-dollar bills and threw them on the bar before grabbing the half-full bottle of champagne with one hand and reaching for her fingers with the other.

Chapter Two

The shrill ringing of the phone startled Garrett awake. He quickly reached out to answer it, fumbling with the receiver. “H’lo,” he said when he finally got the right side to his ear.

“Who’s this?” a woman’s voice on the other end of the line demanded.

Opening his eyes, he squinted and looked around the dark hotel room. Old habits kicked in and he stayed silent until his hazy brain could register where he was and whom he was with. The memories from last night came flooding back and even though he sensed he was alone, he looked around, confirming his disappointment.

She was gone.

The caller must’ve been impatient because he heard the dial tone instead of more questions. He’d just hung up when the phone let out another shrill ring.

“Hello,” he said, this time more clearly but with some added annoyance.

“You again?” the same person demanded. “Is this room eight oh four?”

“I have no idea,” Garrett replied before thinking better of it. He sat up and flipped on the light switch by the bed, but it took a second for his eyes to adjust enough to focus on the numbers typed into the printed directory on the telephone. “Uh, yeah, it is. Can I help you?”

He heard mumbled voices on the other end, then the caller told a person in the background, “It’s her room, but some guy answered.”

Wait, did they know the woman from last night? “Excuse me. Hello? Do you know the woman who was staying in this room?”

“Oh, my gosh! Is there a problem?” The caller’s voice became frantic. “Did something happen to her?”

Heck, he wasn’t trying to scare anyone or cause an alarm. “What? No. I...uh...met her last night, but I didn’t catch her name.”

“If you don’t know her name then why are you in her room?”

That was a damn good question. And one he didn’t have an answer for.

“Is anyone there?” After a few seconds, the caller said, “Maybe we should call hotel security.”

“No.” Garrett stood up. “No need to call security. I think she left. She invited me up here and...” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to get the woman he’d slept with in trouble.

“No way. She would never invite some guy up to her hotel room.”

Clearly, this person wasn’t going to give him any answers and he couldn’t very well defend himself without incriminating someone else. “Oh, did you say you were calling room eight oh four? Sorry, this is room four oh eight. Apparently, there’s been a mix-up. Have a nice day.”

He quickly slammed the receiver down and tried to think about what to do next. But his brain wasn’t adapting as quickly as it used to when he’d get startled out of a deep slumber. Garrett had been a heavy sleeper ever since med school. When he was a resident at the Naval Medical Center in San Diego, he’d learned to crash whenever he got the chance. If there was an emergency, then an on-duty corpsman would be there to wake him up.

That must be why he’d never even heard the woman leave.

He stood in the hotel room, wearing nothing but a confused expression, looking at the tangled four-hundred-thread-count sheets and the empty bottle of champagne near the bed. He studied his bare torso in the mirror over the dresser and noticed the faint purple hue of a love bite on the left side of his neck. He ran a hand through his still-short military haircut, which made his already tender head ache even more. What could he possibly have been thinking to come back to a hotel room with a woman he’d just met?

Being raised with video cameras always hovering nearby, Garrett had learned to be especially cautious not to let anyone get too close to him for fear that they were after something bigger—like a shot at television stardom. Growing up under the harsh lights of studio sets back when his dad had been the star of his own television talk show, then later a producer of a string of other reality series, Garrett had suffered the spillover effects of being followed by the Hollywood paparazzi who constantly linked him to his dad’s notoriety.

He was thirty-six years old and still had a difficult time discerning women who were genuinely interested in him from those who were on the hunt for their fifteen minutes of fame.

And judging by the way the beautiful woman had sneaked out this morning without a trace, it was obvious she hadn’t been looking for much more than a good time. Or a notch in her D-list celebrity belt.

How could he have been so stupid?

Had his father set this up? Had she been sent by the show’s assistants? Was the caller standing outside right now with a camera, hoping to catch them in the act? He hadn’t watched any of his dad’s shows in several years, but at dinner last night, his old man had confided that ratings were down and if they couldn’t breathe some new life into the series, he could be facing cancellation.

God, he hoped this wasn’t some sort of last-ditch publicity stunt.

No. He was pretty sure his gut reaction last night had been on target. The caller sounded surprised that the woman would take a man up to her room. So hopefully she had simply been a lonely traveler looking for a little excitement and companionship.

His official discharge from the military was right around the corner and he didn’t want to worry about any risqué photos or incriminating evidence ruining his career.

Still. He’d hate for any news about him to leak to the press. He’d spent his whole adult life avoiding the cameras, and the only place he’d been able to feel comfortable in his own skin was in the navy. Garrett had purposely volunteered for the most remote assignments whenever possible just to escape the constant media attention that came from being Dr. Gerald McCormick’s son.

He damn well wasn’t going to blow his cover now, which was exactly what he’d told his father at dinner yesterday evening when they’d gotten into their heated argument about the career path he’d just taken.

Garrett sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the abandoned luggage stand in the open closet. He remembered the woman had an open suitcase there last night. And she’d already had a key to this room when they’d come upstairs. He let out a breath and eased back onto the bed. So she had obviously been a registered hotel guest, and since even he had no idea that he’d end up at some hotel bar when he’d stormed out of the restaurant a few blocks away, then nobody would’ve had the foresight to set him up.

That was one crisis averted. There was also the fact that he’d been the one who’d approached her. Fragments of conversation were slowly coming back to him. She’d said she was a dancer—well, she’d definitely had the lithe and graceful body to prove it. She’d also mentioned not being from Boise. Maybe she was just some bored housewife who had to fly home before her husband and kids woke up.

Wait, she’d said she didn’t have kids. He couldn’t remember anything about a husband, but would she have been honest if she’d had one?

He pulled a pillow over his head, wishing he could bury his shame along with his guilt. He took a deep breath, hoping he wasn’t the cause of some poor cuckold’s broken heart. But inhaling was a big mistake because when he did, the lingering aroma of jasmine tickled his nose, reminding him of her intoxicating fragrance and of how he hadn’t been able to get enough of her heady scent. Of how he’d smelled, kissed and tasted every square inch of the woman’s perfect, flexible body last night.

Crap. The woman? He still didn’t even know her name.

This wasn’t like him. Lieutenant Commander Garrett McCormick was a trained battlefield surgeon and an orthopedic specialist. He was cool under pressure and never got rattled. He for sure never let his guard down and didn’t do anything unbecoming an officer. So then why had he allowed some sad-eyed, incredibly stunning woman get to him? What had come over him?

He took one last sniff and then threw the pillow to the floor. Lust, he thought before standing up and striding toward the bathroom. That’s what had gotten into him. Pure, old-fashioned lust combined with frustration at his old man and a need to establish his autonomy with a woman who’d actually taken the time to listen to him and could relate to having an overbearing and egotistical parent.

He wasn’t his dad. He didn’t sleep with every beautiful woman who fluttered her eyelashes at him. But Garrett deserved to have a little companionship in his life, didn’t he?

He stepped into the shower and turned the water on as hot as he could stand it before trying to unscrew the cap off the miniscule shampoo bottle. He’d wash all trace of the woman from his body and then try to banish all indications of last night’s events from his mind.

The problem was, he didn’t think he could forget how perfect she’d felt in his arms. How warm and willing she’d been when he’d eased himself inside her. Or how her breath came in short gasps when she’d reached her peak and begged him not to stop.

Man. He needed to get over it. To get over her.

He dried off and wrapped the towel around his waist before going out into the room to look for his clothes. He spotted his smartphone on the bedside table, and his heart flipped over when he recalled her slim fingers running along his screen in the bar, showing him how to block his incoming calls.

Maybe she had programmed her telephone number in his list of contacts.

His pulse picked up speed as he scrolled through his phone, only to slow down until it was a disappointing lump in his throat. Nope, there was nothing but four missed calls from his father and one from his dad’s assistant, Marty. Well, Dad and Marty would have to wait until hell froze over.

Control yourself, McCormick. He hated getting worked up like this. But he was angry with himself for falling for the beautiful woman in the first place and coming upstairs with her. And he was angry with her for disappearing into thin air.

He got dressed and took one last look around the room, maybe so that he could memorize this moment or maybe because he was searching for one last clue about the woman’s identity. A knock sounded and his stomach flipped over.

Was that her? Had she come back after all? Or was it security?

He opened the heavy door and frowned when he saw a tall, older lady in a maid’s uniform. “Sorry.” She spoke in halting English. “I thought you checked out already.”

She picked up the clipboard hanging off her service cart, as though to make sure she hadn’t made a mistake. Likely, she hadn’t, and the woman who’d spent the evening with him had in fact checked out of the hotel. Garrett took a step closer, thinking he might be able to find out the woman’s name by looking at the guest info sheet.

But the motion forced him to accidentally release the room door, and it whooshed closed with a heavy thunk. The sound caused the maid to look up at him sharply, and she pulled the clipboard to her gray uniform. She stared at him and he glanced at the locked knob and realized he couldn’t get back in.

If he stood here much longer, this employee would also realize that he didn’t have a key and he had no way to prove that he was a guest of the hotel. The walkie-talkie on her cart crackled to life and Garrett decided the last thing he needed was to have security made aware of his presence.

“Yes, my wife already checked us out,” Garrett finally said, thankful he’d at least gotten dressed and that his wallet and keys were still in his pants pocket. “I’m supposed to meet her at the bar.”

What in the world had made a confirmed bachelor like him refer to the woman from last night as his wife? Or mention that they were meeting at a bar. Who met at a bar at oh eight hundred?

The maid lifted an eyebrow at him and he couldn’t blame her for being suspicious. Then again, this was a hotel and he was sure the employees had seen more scandalous behavior than his. But just to be on the safe side, he pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and handed it to her. “Here. We forgot to leave a tip for the turndown service last night,” he mumbled before making his way to the elevator and down to the lobby.

The bar was deserted except for the lone bartender reading a newspaper and a busboy wiping down the tables from the night before. He flashed back to a memory of entering the lounge last night, hell-bent on drinking his anger away. The nerve of his dad trying to talk him into moving back to California to film a new show. Those cuff links had been the icing on the smug cake his father had served after dinner over a nice cold glass of familial guilt.

Garrett patted his coat pocket and pulled out the velvet case. He snapped it open, a visual reminder of what had brought him storming in here last night.

Then he frowned when he realized one of the cuff links was missing. Had he left it in the room? He looked back at the bank of elevators and wondered if it was worth the risk of having the maid call security on him. He remembered taking them out of his pocket last night as he and the woman had been drinking. But before they’d left, he clearly recalled her handing the box back to him. She must have known that he wasn’t the kind of guy who would throw away something so personal and expensive, even if he didn’t understand his father’s purpose in presenting him with such a questionable gift.

He also remembered picking up both his jacket and the cuff link case off the elevator floor last night, then smiled at the memory of how those items had gotten there in the first place. He walked back over to the elevators and wasted several minutes looking into each one for the missing cuff link. But like the woman from last night, it was long gone.

So then what happened to it?

And what had happened to her?

The front desk was busy and Garrett quickly dismissed the thought of asking the clerk for a guest’s information. The cleaning lady upstairs had eyeballed him as if he was a criminal. So what was he supposed to ask the college-age-looking kid behind the desk? Excuse me, but can you tell me the name of the woman who was staying in room eight oh four? I spent the night with her, but I never thought to ask her myself.

Please. Maybe if this was some no-tell motel, he could bribe the employee. But he doubted that a high-quality establishment, which had most likely already been put on notice by his mystery caller this morning, would be willing to bend the rules.

And did he really want it leaked to the press who was asking? He’d be lucky if he didn’t appear on some sleazy tabloid show for this stunt.

His thoughts were circling around like the whirling blades of a Huey helicopter, and he couldn’t decide on a course of action.

Or inaction for that matter. Maybe he’d just dodged a bullet. It wasn’t as though he was in the market for a relationship anyway, so he really didn’t need the extra chaos that this situation might cause. Especially during this transitional time in his life. It was best to get the woman and this whole experience out of his mind.

Leaving the hotel, he walked down the busy Boise street to where he’d left his car, doing a double take at any woman with long dark hair to see if it was her. His cell phone vibrated in his pocket and when he pulled it out, he saw Matt Cooper’s name on the screen. A year ago, the chief of police for Sugar Falls had been one of Garrett’s more stubborn patients. But the former marine had also become a friend and had been instrumental in talking him into opening a specialized clinic in the small Idaho town.

Cooper had sold him on the concept that where there was a tourist trade that catered to extreme sports such as downhill skiing, river rafting and hiking, there was a need for orthopedic surgeons. It wasn’t a hard sell since not only was the town unpretentious and as far removed from the limelight as Garrett could get, it also desperately needed a physician who could actually serve the local community for the better.

“What’s happening, Coop?” Garrett said by way of greeting.

“I just got off the phone with Mayor Johnston and the city approved the zoning for converting that old lumber mill you bought into medical offices. My wife’s friend has a brother who is doing some contracting and thinks he can have a crew start construction tomorrow.”

“Is he any good?”

“As far as I can tell. But now that you’re going to be living in a small town, it’s best to realize that’s how they do things here.” Cooper was a transplant himself, first from Detroit and then the military, and during a previous conversation he’d confided that he was still adapting to the slower-paced life. “Everyone knows somebody who is related to someone else who can get things done for you. It took me a while to get used to it, but the system can be beneficial.”

“Okay. Have him email me an estimate and a contract. As long as people up there know how to mind their own business, then I’ll hire whoever they want.”

Coop laughed. “Now, I didn’t say they know how to mind their own business. But the community as a whole is a tight-knit group, and if they like you well enough, they wouldn’t sell you out to some big-city paparazzi. How did that talk with your old man go, by the way?”

Cooper was one of the few people who knew Garrett was related to the famous television producer. But that’s because the guy would investigate the depth lines on a ship’s anchor if he felt like it. And when he’d been hospitalized with two consecutive knee surgeries and nothing else to look forward to, the marine had been bored enough to investigate his surgeon.

“It went as expected. He wanted what he always wants, which is for me to return to California and start filming alongside him. I told him about my new plans. He said there’s no reason for me to go into private practice in some—no offense—Podunk town where my patients will only be able to pay for my services in taxidermy animals and squirrel meat casserole.”

“Ouch. Although, that’s what I expected, too, before I actually visited Sugar Falls.”

“Well, let’s hope for everyone’s sake that my dad and his entourage of cameras never decide to visit.” Garrett thought about his former patient’s family history and realized he might sound like a spoiled, ungrateful child. “Don’t get me wrong, I love the man. But I should’ve known better than to meet him last night. If it weren’t for that stupid dinner, I never would’ve gotten so pissed off and...”

What? He never would’ve walked to the hotel bar and experienced the most magical evening in his life?

Of course, he couldn’t say any of that to Cooper. Even though the two men’s relationship was moving into friendship territory, Garrett wasn’t ready to confess to anyone that his unsinkable heart had nearly been caught in a rip current.

He climbed into his late-model truck and dropped his head to the leather-covered steering wheel. He was too embarrassed to say anything to anyone and didn’t need a bored police chief to start asking too many questions.

Wait a second. Having Cooper asking questions on Garrett’s behalf might be another thing altogether. The idea of having his friend assist him in finding the mystery lady was ridiculous, but that wouldn’t stop him from exploring the possibility of it later. When he didn’t already have eight hundred things to do before the big move.

“Anyway.” Garrett started his engine. “Speaking of expectations, tell me more about some of these small-town neighbors I’m going to be meeting in Sugar Falls.”

Chapter Three

Eight weeks later, while her two best friends sat in her living room for their regular Thursday night dinner together, Mia came out of the bathroom holding the small plastic stick in her hand.

“That was quick,” Kylie Gregson said, looking down at the empty box. “It says that you needed to wait three minutes for the results.”

“I know. But I didn’t want to wait in there alone to find out. Here.” Mia set the pregnancy test on a paper towel on the kitchen counter then rushed back to the couch and pulled her favorite throw blanket up to her chin. “It probably needs about two more minutes. I can’t look. You guys tell me what it says.”

Maxine Cooper walked over to the counter and looked at the stick. “Well, I don’t think we need to wait that long. The second blue line is pretty clear already.”

“What do two blue lines mean again?”

“It means positive,” Kylie said, checking the instructions.

“Let’s give it a little more time,” Mia whispered. “Maybe the other blue line will go away.” But she was a smart woman with a bachelor’s degree in fine arts. She knew none of this was going away.

She was pregnant. Single and pregnant.

A flood of emotion overcame her and she didn’t know how to feel at first. Even though she’d thought about this possibility well before she’d sent her friend around the corner to Lester’s Pharmacy to pick up the test, she knew she wasn’t upset.

She was terrified, but she’d dealt with scarier things in her life. She was in denial, but then, she’d lived as a shell of herself for the past few years, so the feeling wasn’t too uncommon. She was ashamed, but there was something else pushing her guilt aside and giving her a glimpse at a happiness she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“Aw, sweetie,” Kylie said. “I know this is overwhelming, but you’re a strong woman. And you have us to help you.”

“I know,” she said, tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I promised myself I would forget about that night in Boise. And it was almost getting easier until I realized my cycle had never been this late. I guess in my determination to forget everything, I didn’t think about the consequences, either.”

“Do you want to talk about your plans?” Maxine asked.

“I’m scared. Obviously. I don’t know how I’ll do it.” As soon as she realized she was late, a fear set in. But so did another emotion—excitement. “Like a tiny part of me is kind of looking forward to having this baby. I know this sounds selfish because I hated growing up without a father and I always swore that if I had kids of my own I wouldn’t make the same mistakes that my mom made with me. But I’m actually a little bit excited.” She rubbed her knee, which was getting sorer with each passing day. “That bastard Nick took so much from me—and not just physically. I thought I’d never recover after he attacked me, that my life was ruined. Yet, the thought of having a baby—having someone who is only mine and who needs me—is unreal, but in a positive way. This pregnancy might make me feel like I have a purpose again.”

Both of her friends looked at each other before turning back toward her. Then Kylie asked, “What about the baby’s father?”

“What about him? It’s not like I know him or would even know where to find him.”

Maxine hesitated before saying, “Cooper has some connections with the Boise PD and he can talk to the hotel security, maybe ask some questions on the down low—”

“No,” Mia interrupted. “What if the guy is married? Or a psychopath? I don’t need him. We don’t need him,” she corrected, as she put her hands protectively over the not yet visible bump of her tummy.

Her friends looked at each other again and Maxine shrugged. “Nobody has to make any decisions right this second. How about you let everything sink in and then, if you change your mind, we’ll help you find him.”

Mia nodded, but knew she wouldn’t ever change her mind. She was about to take control of her own life, of her own destiny, and she wasn’t going to invite some strange man into her world to start calling the shots or vetoing her decisions—even if she knew where to find him.

The women turned their conversation to pregnancy symptoms and childbirth and their doubts about ancient Dr. Suarez, who was the town’s only general practitioner and should have retired twenty years prior.

“I think I might look for an obstetrician in Boise,” Mia said.

“Thank goodness I’m covered under Drew’s insurance,” said Kylie. She was married to a lieutenant commander in the navy and twenty weeks pregnant. “I only have to drive as far as Shadowview Hospital when it’s my time to deliver. Don’t you think going all the way to Boise might be a bit far?”

Mia flexed her knee, trying to stretch out the pain that had only increased over these past weeks. Her friend was right, but going to the town doctor would be tantamount to hanging a huge banner outside her dance studio announcing to the world that she was pregnant and unmarried. Some of her students’ parents might think she wasn’t a fit role model for their precious offspring. She also helped coach the high school cheerleading team and knew the PTA would surely call her morals into question. Sugar Falls was a small town, and her career didn’t need that kind of negative publicity.

“What about that new medical center out at the old lumber mill?” Maxine asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Kylie was nodding her head. “My brother, Kane, has been doing the construction on the building and said the first offices are unofficially opening next week.”

“What kind of doctors will they have?” Mia was skeptical but any physician who was new to town would still be considered an outsider and wouldn’t be so quick to divulge patient information to the rest of his cronies in the Kiwanis Club, as Doc Suarez was known to do.

“Cooper’s surgeon from the base hospital is opening up an orthopedic clinic there now that he’s out of the military. And I heard there was a new dentist moving in next month. But no OBs, as far as I know.”

“Actually,” Max added, “it would probably be a good idea to talk to Dr. McCormick about your knee, Mia.”

“I know. It’s been killing me lately. But now that I’m pregnant, I probably shouldn’t have surgery or anything.” Besides, a retired navy doctor sounded just as old and cantankerous as Dr. Suarez.

“That’s true.” Kylie patted her own stomach. “But trust me, when you start packing on the pounds, it’s only going to get worse. Maybe he could give you a cortisone shot or something to get you through the next several months.”

“Yep, the last thing you want is a bum knee when you have a newborn to take care of,” Maxine said. “Trying to run the dance studio on top of everything else is going to be taxing on you.”

These women knew Mia better than anyone. They were her former teammates on the Boise State cheer team and her lifesavers when she’d later fled Miami to start over in Sugar Falls. And now Mia was turning to them again.

Maxine was the owner of the Sugar Falls Cookie Company, the star attraction of the downtown Sugar Falls tourist industry and a famous bakery specializing in flavored cookies. She’d opened her shop when her eleven-year-old son had been a toddler and had firsthand experience on raising a child alone while managing a growing business. Kylie was a CPA and had spent last summer raising her husband’s twin nephews while singlehandedly maintaining the financial records for half the town. Mia was glad she had friends who had already gone through something similar and could help her navigate the unfamiliar terrain.

“Okay,” she said with a sigh. “Give me his number and I’ll make an appointment.”

Her friends left and, as much as she adored the two women, she was glad to finally be alone to come to terms with her new reality.

After securing the dead bolt, she grabbed the paper towel off the counter, sat down on her comfy old sofa and stared at the little test stick with the two blue lines. She was going to be a mother. Mia could hardly believe it. Growing up, whenever she’d complain about not wanting to audition for a certain play that had nothing to do with dancing or not wanting to move to an entirely different state because her mother had it in her head that Mia could land a talent agent if she would only take up acting classes, Rhonda Palinski would tell her daughter that she didn’t even know what she wanted.

And for the past few years, Mia had allowed herself to believe that maybe her mom was right and she didn’t know what she wanted out of life.

Putting the stick down, she stroked her still-flat belly. She knew with a certainty she hadn’t felt in years that she wanted this child more than she had ever wanted anything. She’d always lived her life for others, having her dreams diminished or jerked out from under her feet. But this baby was hers. And nobody, not even GP What’s-his-name, could take this away from her.

She reached into her sweater pocket and pulled out the gold and onyx cuff link, looking at the initials.

GPM.

The morning following their lovemaking she’d almost made it down to the lobby when she’d spotted a small bit of gold winking at her from the corner of the elevator. When she’d picked it up, she remembered the way he’d had her body pressed up against the mirrored walls, her hands pulling him in closer and slipping under his suit jacket—which had gotten in her way. She’d heard a thunk right before the ping of the elevator alerted them that they’d reached her floor. But he’d scooped up the fallen case along with his discarded coat before they exited and fatefully made their way to her room.

Mia didn’t wear much jewelry and had no idea what the cuff link was worth, but its potential monetary value wasn’t what made her slip it into her satiny pocket that morning. She should’ve turned it in at the front desk lost and found. And if she hadn’t been completely embarrassed by her lack of inhibitions and the threat of discovery, maybe she would’ve.

She thought about the careless way he’d left them at the bar and his annoyance at his father’s idea of a gift, telling herself that GPM probably didn’t care about the things anyway. Sneaking away from the elevator, she decided that having such a small memento would help her remember that she was still a woman with passion and life left in her.

Even Prince Charming had kept a glass slipper. Of course, unlike the smitten royal, Mia had no intention of traipsing around the countryside trying to find its owner.

She traced her finger over the gold-embossed letters.

If she thought about the man she’d left naked and asleep in her hotel bed, or the way he’d made her body come alive, responding to his skillful touch and his adoring mouth, she would lose all rational thought and make a pathetic attempt to take Maxine up on her offer to have Chief Cooper perform some miracle and attempt to track him down.

No. Things would be better if she just forgot about him and their night of sensual lovemaking. She reached for the little wooden treasure chest Maxine’s son had given her for her birthday three years ago. She put the cuff link inside then snapped the box closed, along with her heart.

She doubted that a man like GPM would even want to be found. He’d seemed to have his own share of problems he’d been trying to escape from and probably wouldn’t appreciate having any long-lasting reminders of that night, let alone an unexpected paternal responsibility. In fact, he’d most likely been more than relieved to have found Mia long gone the morning after.

Really, she’d saved them both from an awkward situation.

She’d never been the type of woman who had casual sex with strangers she’d met in bars. Heck, she wasn’t even the kind of woman who went to bars, or slept with many men, for that matter. Her actions that night had been so out of character for her that her first instinct the next morning was to run and hide before pretending that it had never happened.

From the moment she’d driven her five-year-old Prius away from the hotel, she’d forbidden herself from ever thinking about GP again.

Yet she couldn’t help remembering how, as they’d walked down the deserted hallway, her plastic key card quivering in her hand, she’d known that she was making a conscious choice.

When they’d stood at her door she lifted her face toward his and saw the passion in his eyes, dimmed only slightly by a furrowed brow, as if his own set of second thoughts was playing out in his mind. Then and there she decided that maybe he needed her just as much as she needed him.

It had taken her two tries to get the key card inserted and she remembered letting out a breath when the little green light signaled that the lock had finally released, because for once in Mia’s life, she had followed her physical urges—and her heart.

But now it was time to return to reality.

Getting off her sofa, she walked across her tiny apartment and opened her patio doors looking out onto Snowflake Boulevard, the main street leading through Sugar Falls. This was her reality. This town was her safe haven and home now. She took a deep breath of the cool mountain air, wanting to inhale the familiar sights and scents as if she could absorb enough of the environment into her brain so that she could push aside all thought of her carefree and careless night in the anonymous big city.

Because that was the key. Anonymity. She’d thought about leaving her telephone number for him, or staying a couple more hours to share breakfast and possibly something more.

But no matter how much she might want to see her mystery lover again, or how guilty she might feel for keeping this baby a secret, she knew she wasn’t ready for that kind of intimacy. She was just now allowing herself to put down roots and come out of her shell. All it would take was one bad relationship to put her right back to square one.

And that was a chance she just wasn’t willing to take.

* * *

Garrett wasn’t quite sure what to make of Cessy Walker. The older socialite had kindly volunteered to fill in at the front desk until he hired a nursing staff, but she didn’t seem like the best fit for a small-town physician’s office. After all, she was dressed in a designer wool knit pantsuit—Garrett recognized it as a staple brand from his last stepmother’s closet—and enough pearls to sink a life raft.

“Have you ever worked in a doctor’s office before, Ms. Walker?”

“Please, call me Cessy. Not in an office per se, but I did chair the Boise Children’s Hospital black-tie gala back in eighty-nine and we raised over fifty thousand dollars for a new sports medicine wing.”

“And tell me again why you want to work here?”

“I figure I needed to be doing something a bit more stimulating with my time. I tried to do that volunteer patrol program with the police department, but Cooper got all bent out of shape when I played my Barry Manilow CD on the squad car’s loudspeaker.”

Garrett bit the inside of his cheek, all too familiar with the eccentric personalities of the bored elite. Apparently, even small towns such as Sugar Falls had their share of overprivileged do-gooders looking for something to spice up their daily routines. The woman was sincere enough and probably had good intentions, but he really didn’t need her help. If his first patient wasn’t coming this afternoon, he would’ve politely declined her offer to act as a quasi-receptionist. But before he could make a decision one way or the other, she continued talking.

“I can see by your expression that you’re a bit shocked at my resourcefulness when it comes to entertaining. My third husband used to look at me the same way. But just between the two of us, it didn’t take a party-planning whiz to realize that the Labor Day parade was going to be a major snoozefest with that Mae Johnston running the show. Personally, I think the townspeople enjoyed me adding some festive music and pepping things up. But afterward, the chief was concerned other townspeople might follow suit and utilize public resources in an unauthorized manner.” Ms. Walker made it sound as if her Fanilow utilization was completely authorized. “Anyhoo, Cooper suggested that you might need some temp help, and since I know everyone who’s anyone in town, I figured I would be an asset to you setting up shop and establishing yourself with the crème de la crème of our town.”

Hmm. It sounded to Garrett as if Cooper wanted his wife’s former mother-in-law out of his hair and had dumped her into his lap. He’d met her a couple of times when she’d brought her grandson to visit Cooper at Shadowview and had an idea that she was used to getting what she wanted. But he was new in Sugar Falls and, as much as he prided himself on his independence, it couldn’t hurt to have an established and well-connected member of the community give him her bedazzled seal of approval.

Plus, he was about to ask for a favor himself, so keeping Cessy Walker busy would make the chief of police indebted to him.

It had been over eight weeks since that night in the hotel, and he hadn’t been able to get the woman from the bar out of his mind. He’d tried everything he could think of to look for her—everything from calling the hotel the following day to try to find the guest who’d been staying in room 804 to researching dance performances in Boise hoping to come across her picture. He’d even spent a few evenings sitting in the hotel bar the following week, closely watching every brunette that walked through the door—but always ended up at a dead end. The more time that went by, the colder her trail would get. It was time to call in the big guns.

“All right, well I appreciate your helping me out just for the next couple of days.” He purposely paused to emphasize that her receptionist skills—or lack thereof—would only be temporary. “My first patient is a referral from a friend and she’s coming in an hour. Have her fill out these forms and get copies of her insurance card. Technically we’re not open for business yet, and I don’t expect many calls in the next few days, but if you could answer the phone and take down messages for me, that’d be great.”

“No problem, Doc. And keep in mind that I can only volunteer for the next two weeks. I go on my sabbatical after that.”

He couldn’t imagine what a woman like Cessy Walker needed a sabbatical from. But he wasn’t going to ask because he had a feeling she’d tell him.

He took a seat behind the battered desk he’d found online. Garrett wasn’t in the habit of using money he hadn’t earned himself, and he’d already dipped into his trust fund account to finance the building and splurge on his top-of-the-line medical equipment. While he wanted to make his patients comfortable, he didn’t really see the need for wasting money on decorations or frivolous extras when it was surgical equipment and state-of-the-art radiology machines that he needed most. But hiring a full-time professional staff just jumped to the top of his to-do list.

He probably should’ve made a telephone call, but he didn’t want his new “receptionist” to overhear his very personal conversation. So he fired off an email to Cooper, listing as much information as he could think of about the mystery woman from the hotel. He told himself that if she wanted to be found, she would’ve left her contact information. But the more time he spent recalling every little detail about that night, the more obsessed he became with locating her and seeing her again.

Maybe he was romanticizing it. Or maybe he didn’t like the lingering feeling of rejection. Although he’d grown up a pampered rich kid, it wasn’t as if he was some spoiled brat who only wanted things he couldn’t have. Most likely, it had been a one-time experience and, if he met her again in person, none of that sizzling spark would be there anymore.

But what if it was?

He clicked Send and then slammed his laptop closed. This whole search was probably the most futile endeavor he’d ever embarked upon. And it would probably only give Cooper extra ammunition for busting his chops. Garrett needed to focus and get back to work.

He was putting away supplies and arranging one of his exam rooms when he heard his first patient arrive. She was early and he wasn’t quite ready. Besides, he didn’t want to look too eager—as if he had nothing more important or doctoral to do with his time.

Cessy Walker’s voice carried back to him as she greeted the patient. “Mia, you’re going to just adore Dr. McCormick. He’s a family friend and is known to be the best orthopedic specialist in the state. He’ll have your knee all fixed up in no time.”

Okay, that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but his suddenly fragile ego could use the boost. Also, technically, he was a friend of the new husband to Cessy’s former daughter-in-law, but in a small town such as this, he figured everyone had some kind of connection with everyone else. The woman might not be experienced as a receptionist, but perhaps she’d been right in declaring herself an asset to his growing practice.

He looked at his stainless steel watch. It would probably take a few more minutes for the patient to complete the insurance paperwork, so he went back to puttering.

After about ten minutes, he heard murmuring, and then Ms. Walker’s voice again. “Great. Follow me on back to the exam room.”

Garrett was shoving his left arm into the sleeve of his white lab coat when his receptionist walked in and handed the file to him.

“Doctor, Mia Palinski is here to see you,” Cessy said then walked out, leaving Garrett face-to-face with his first patient.

But instead of sticking out his hand to introduce himself, he froze when he recognized the midnight-black hair, the pale blue eyes and the graceful body he could never forget.

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