“Leave it alone, Reeve. I know you’re trying to help, but if you dig into things you don’t understand, you’ll only hurt me. The baby, too.”

Once again, Reeve took her into his arms, but his feelings were not nearly as tender as before. Something was going on that he did not understand.

“Explain the rest, Polly,” he insisted, trying not to become intoxicated by the fragrant silkiness of her hair.

She shook her head. “I can’t.” Her voice broke.

Where was his sanity? Despite every bit of sense he had, he bent down and captured her mouth with his. For a moment she did not respond. And then she kissed him back, as though this was the only kiss they would ever share. As though there were no tomorrow.

Dear Harlequin Intrigue Reader,

The days are getting cooler, but the romantic suspense is always hot at Harlequin Intrigue! Check out this month’s selections.

TEXAS CONFIDENTIAL continues with The Specialist (#589) by Dani Sinclair. Rafe Alvarez was the resident playboy agent, until he met his match in Kendra Kincaide. He transformed his new partner into a femme fatale for the sake of a mission, and instantly lost his bachelor’s heart for the sake of love.…

THE SUTTON BABIES have grown in number by two in Little Boys Blue (#590) by Susan Kearney. A custody battle over cowboy M.D. Cameron Sutton’s baby boys was brewing. When East Coast socialite Alexa Whitfield agreed to a marriage of convenience, Cam thought his future was settled. Until he fell for his temporary wife—the same wife someone was determined to kill!

Hailed by Romantic Times Magazine as an author who writes a “tantalizing read,” Gayle Wilson returns with Midnight Remembered (#591), which marks the conclusion of her MORE MEN OF MYSTERY series. When ex-CIA agent Joshua Stone couldn’t remember his true identity, he became an easy target. But his ex-partner Paige Daniels knew all his secrets, including what was in his heart….

Reeve Snyder had rescued Polly Black from death and delivered her baby girl one fateful night. Polly’s vulnerable beauty touched him deep inside, but who was she? And what was she running from? And next time, would Reeve be able to save her and her daughter when danger came calling? Find out in Alias Mommy (#592) by Linda O. Johnston.

Don’t miss a single exciting moment!

Sincerely,

Denise O’Sullivan

Associate Senior Editor

Harlequin Intrigue

Alias Mommy

Linda O. Johnston

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Linda O. Johnston’s first published fiction appeared in Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine and won the Robert L. Fish Memorial Award for Best First Mystery Short Story of the Year. Now, several published short stories and four novels later, Linda is recognized for her outstanding work in the romance genre.

A practicing attorney, Linda juggles her busy schedule between mornings of writing briefs, contracts and other legalese, and afternoons of creating memorable tales of the paranormal, time travel, mystery, contemporary and romantic suspense. Armed with an undergraduate degree in journalism with an advertising emphasis from Pennsylvania State University, Linda began her versatile writing career running a small newspaper, then working in advertising and public relations, and later obtaining her J.D. degree from Duquesne University School of Law in Pittsburgh.

Linda belongs to Sisters in Crime and is actively involved with Romance Writers of America, participating in the Los Angeles, Orange County and Western Pennsylvania chapters. She lives near Universal Studios, Hollywood, with her husband, two sons and two cavalier King Charles spaniels.

CAST OF CHARACTERS

Polly Black—While on the run from her stepfamily, she gave birth to her baby girl—with the help of a handsome stranger.

Reeve Snyder—A doctor dedicated to saving lives without getting involved in them—but all that changed the night he delivered mysterious and beautiful Polly Black’s baby.

Alicia Frost—The ruthless reporter senses a scandal surrounding the new mom in town.

Lou Jenson—A corrupt politician with his career at stake, Lou is determined to find his missing stepdaughter.

Victor and Gene Jenson—Both brothers believe the best place for their stepsister and her child is home with the family.

Al Crackauer—The private investigator is hot on Catherine’s trail. He’ll let nothing stand in his way.

Ava Calvert Jenson—Has her beloved daughter’s disappearance driven this mother mad?

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter One

Catherine Calvert Elkins leaned as close to the unyielding steering wheel as she could. Her fingers had nearly become attached to the wheel over the past long, long hours, and her cramped hand ached from clutching the leatherlike surface.

The car took curves well, thank heavens, as she forced it to careen through the night. Sheets of rain threw the glare of her headlights back into her face, stabbing her moist, smarting eyes. She blinked, trying to keep them open.

She was exhausted. She had barely stopped to rest over the last what—four days? Five? She had not slept more than a couple of stolen hours at a time along her circuitous route.

“And now, the local weather report,” said a disembodied male voice. She’d turned the radio up to blare over the rain’s pounding and the rushing air of the defogger, which failed to clear the windshield. Only local news was on now. She had no interest in local news—except for the weather report. More thunderstorms coming, the man informed her cheerily.

Of course.

She hated driving in the rain, especially in the dark. It was one of many newly discovered dislikes. As with the rest, she had never experienced this one before. There had always been someone….

No. She didn’t dare think of that now. She had to concentrate on…what?

Oh, yes. Driving.

But she was tired. So tired.

And numb. The debilitating terror she had felt when starting out had dissipated. For now.

There weren’t many cars out this night, not here among the dark mountains along the curving highway. Smart people didn’t go out in this weather.

Smart people had a choice.

She had pushed herself nearly to the limit. She knew that. And she was hurting more than herself.

She reached down and lifted the large paper cup from the holder on the console. Making a face, she forced herself to take a swig of the cold coffee she had bought a few hours back. It smelled like brackish water. But she needed the caffeine.

Okay, she promised herself. First cheap motel she spotted off the interstate after daylight, she’d get a room.

It would be a long time till daylight, she knew. And still the rain smashed down on the road, her car, isolating her from the rest of the world.

That was fine. She needed to be alone. She…

Had to…

Stay awake…

She blinked suddenly, alert, as the headlights caught a metal railing dead in front of her. She slammed on the brakes, spun the steering wheel.

Screamed as the car plunged through the rail, “No…please, no!”

Her last conscious action was to curve into a protective curl.

NEITHER RAIN NOR HEAT nor gloom of night stayed the Selborn Peak, Colorado, city council from its regular Thursday night meeting, Reeve Snyder thought ironically as he carefully guided his Volvo through the blinding torrent.

Nor thunderstorms.

It wasn’t as if the business just conducted was so earthshaking that it couldn’t have waited a week. But he wasn’t the only one who had another demanding job, or a dislike of being out in awful weather. And this wasn’t as bad as winter’s snowstorms, which he abhorred for good reason. Still, if he had complained, his fellow councilpersons would—

His cellular phone rang. “Yes?” he answered tersely. He knew what the call was likely to be about at this hour, and on such a night: a medical emergency.

“Doc?” The voice was shaking. “This is Ernie Pride.”

Reeve had just left Ernie at the council meeting. “Yes, Ernie. What’s up?”

“I just saw a car go off the interstate in front of me. I called 911 and help’s on the way, but I figured you’d be closer than anyone. Can you come?”

“Sure.” Reeve got the particulars and in moments was heading toward the spot, his heart pounding. He was one of a few doctors who lived in this small town, so he was summoned frequently in emergencies. No matter how many times he responded, he couldn’t help feeling the rush of anticipation—and dread.

He never knew how bad it would be till he got there.

It didn’t take long. Half a mile after pulling onto the interstate at the entrance Ernie had named, Reeve thought he saw stationary red lights ahead through the still-pouring rain. Sure enough, as he drew closer, he noticed Ernie’s Land Rover on the shoulder of the road. He pulled behind, tugged off the jacket and necktie he’d worn to the meeting and, grabbing a flashlight, leaped from his car. Drenched as quickly as if he had jumped into a cold shower with his clothes on, he snatched his medical bag from the trunk and looked around. The shoulder was narrow, and the fence that was supposed to protect drivers from the steep slope below was broken by a large gap. Looking down the hillside, Reeve soon spotted another light. “Ernie?” he called.

“Here, Doc!” The response was muffled by the pounding rain.

Reeve slid through scratchy brush and oozing mud down to the scene of the accident—fortunately, not far below the road. The car was small; it must have been traveling too fast, since it had severed the fence so completely. It rested on the passenger side, the driver’s side up in the air. The front was caved in.

Reeve found Ernie perched on the upper edge, prying open the driver’s door with a tire iron. It opened with a shriek of metal. “Too smashed to open regular,” Ernie said, hopping down. A building contractor, Ernie was a short, wiry man, and Reeve had no doubt he’d have opened the car door with his bare hands if it had been possible.

“Who’s inside?” Reeve began climbing up to the opening.

“One person, far as I can tell. There.”

Ernie held his hand up to shine his light inside, and Reeve peered in, increasing the illumination with his own light. A woman lay in a crumpled heap at the bottom, against the passenger door. She seemed unconscious, strewn with glass from the smashed windshield, and what he could see of her head and arms was bloody.

His professionalism keeping him calm, Reeve climbed in and lowered himself to where she lay, careful not to step on her. The car reeked of gasoline, plus a hint of spice, as though of rich perfume—and the metallic stench of blood.

Finally kneeling beside her, he turned her over, automatically reaching for her wrist to check her pulse.

A pain so sharp that it might as well have been physical pierced Reeve’s heart.

The woman was visibly near term pregnant.

“Damn it,” he swore shakily.

He would not lose either one. This time.

KNUCKLES WHITE as he steered his Volvo, Reeve followed the shrieking ambulance to the emergency room door, then parked behind it. As he jumped out of his car, the ambulance’s flashing red light swept over him and reflected on the wet pavement. The rain was slower now but had not completely stopped.

The emergency medical technicians responding to Ernie’s 911 call had arrived not long after Reeve did. He had already stanched the flow of blood from a severe laceration on the woman’s arm, and together they had stabilized her. Her baby was alive but in distress.

Holding an intravenous bag in the air, the EMTs wheeled the woman into the medical center on a gurney. The staff had been alerted to expect the emergency, and Larry Fletcher, a fine obstetrician and a friend of Reeve’s, was waiting.

“What do you think?” he asked Reeve without looking at him. He was already checking over the woman. “Was she conscious at all? Do we know how close the baby is to term?”

“No. She looks pretty far along, though.” A wave of helplessness washed over Reeve, but he quickly set it aside. “The baby’s heartbeat is weak and thready,” he told the obstetrician. “The trauma may have caused a separated placenta.”

“If so, emergency C-section’s the way to go,” Larry stated. “Nurse!” He called to one of the emergency room team and began issuing orders.

For the first time, Reeve got a good look at the injured woman. Her short, dark hair, still containing shards of glass, was a stark contrast to the color of her pale skin. Her long, thick eyelashes were a lighter shade than her hair. There were bloody scratches on her face and arms in addition to the deep cut that had bled so profusely, and she had a large bump on her forehead. She wore a loose maternity dress that bulged out in front. She seemed a pretty woman, and she looked utterly fragile.

Her pallor was deathlike.

Anguish he’d thought he had forgotten threatened to swamp Reeve, but then he noticed her eyelids flutter. Her lips parted, and she seemed to be trying to talk. He leaned toward her. “What did you say?” he asked gently, though a voice inside screamed for him to lift this woman, hold her, force her baby and her to be immediately healed.

Her eyes opened just a slit. He couldn’t tell what color they were, and he doubted that they were focused on him. Her brow was furrowed as though she was in pain.

He saw her hand rise slightly from where it rested beside her on the gurney, and he clasped it in his. It was cool and damp and seemed as limp as a shroud.

This time, when she spoke in a quiet rasp, he made out the words. “Help me. Please.”

“I’ll do all I can. I promise.” His blood pounded in his ears. What if—

No, that was another mother, another baby. He had no business thinking about them now. He was the only physician with pediatric experience at the hospital at this hour. He had work to do.

CATHERINE’S EYELIDS WERE heavy. She struggled to open them. They fluttered first. With concentrated effort, she managed to raise them just a little.

She saw only a blur of white. “You are awake,” said a deep, soothing voice. A familiar male voice. It made her feel relaxed. Safe.

“I thought so. Can you tell me your name?”

She didn’t want to talk. Too tired. But she had to respond to the calming voice. “Ca—” she started to say. She stopped, trying to remember why she didn’t dare mention that name. “Polly,” she finally said. The word came out as a croak. That was the answer she had to give. She had to think of herself as Polly, not Catherine. But as muzzy as her mind felt, she was not sure why.

“Polly what?”

“Black,” she managed to answer. Why did she hurt so badly? She felt as though she had been run over by a truck.

Truck? No. The car. She had been so tired, and then…and then…

She came fully awake as suddenly as if she had been pinched. “The accident,” she gasped. Why didn’t her head clear? She was in a bed in a strange room. A man wearing a white jacket hovered over her. Did she know him? He wore a name tag. She struggled to focus on it. Dr. R. Snyder, it read. A doctor? Where was she?

She looked around. She lay in a narrow bed with railings on the sides. Her sore left arm was hooked up to a long tube that led to a bottle hanging upside down: an IV. Her right arm was swathed in bandages. The place smelled of something sweet and antiseptic. Obviously, she was in a hospital. White sheets were tucked over her nearly flat belly.

Flat?

Everything came back to her suddenly. “My baby!” she screamed, struggling to sit up despite arrows of pain stabbing through her. “What happened to—?”

“Shh.” The doctor pushed her back gently onto the bed. “It’s all right. You have a beautiful little girl. She’s fine.” His baritone voice was tranquil and familiar, though she didn’t recall ever meeting him. But he sounded as if he cared about her. “Sleep now, and when you’re feeling a little better I’ll make sure someone brings her in to see you.”

“Now.” Her heart pounded unmercifully, magnifying each pain.

Nothing alarmed her as much as the fear that the doctor, despite his kind, calming voice, had lied to her. That something was wrong with her baby.

Or that someone had stolen her away.

She searched the man’s eyes. They were a golden brown beneath thick ginger brows, and like any good doctor’s, they were filled with compassion. But she couldn’t trust him.

She couldn’t trust anyone.

“Please,” she said, making her voice as forceful as she could. “Let me see my baby.”

“I think we can arrange that. She was small, you know. And we were worried about her condition after the accident. That’s why we delivered her right away. She’s doing well, but she’s been under observation since she was born.”

“When was that?” Polly was almost afraid to ask. How long had she been unconscious?

“About—” the doctor pushed the sleeve of his lab coat up from a broad, hair-dusted wrist and looked at his watch “—ten hours ago.”

Ten hours. Her baby had been born that long ago, and she hadn’t been awake to see her. To hold her. Polly felt tears rise to her eyes. “You’re sure she’s all right?”

“I’m certain, though we’re keeping close tabs. I’ll have someone bring her soon.”

She tried to watch him leave the room, but instead her head fell back onto the pillow. She felt miserably dizzy, and there was a fierce ache at her forehead. She lifted her hand to put pressure on the spot and felt a large lump. Oh, my. She must have hit something hard.

If only the seat belt hadn’t been so uncomfortable around her large abdomen—but who knew what condition she and the baby would have been in if she had been strapped to the seat?

Then there was the pain that burned from beneath the bandage on her arm.

She felt awful. And confused. Where was she? In a hospital, of course, but where? She looked around the small, sterile room, but it gave no clue.

She tried to stay awake. She was aware that she dozed off, then awakened again. That was all right, as long as she did not fall into a deep sleep. She had to be sure….

“Here you are,” said a high, cheerful voice, startling Polly fully awake. A uniformed nurse stood beside the bed, smiling. “Doc Snyder examined this little darling again. He’s a careful one. And then he had to check with Dr. Fletcher to make sure it was all right for you to have a little visitor. Dr. Fletcher is your attending physician.” In moments, Polly felt a soft bundle being snuggled against her right side. She heard a small squeaky sound and looked down.

There, swaddled in a white receiving blanket, was the most beautiful sight she had ever seen: a tiny pink face, with just a smattering of light brown hair. The eyes were closed.

“Oh,” Polly said wonderingly, suddenly engulfed in a wave of deep emotion that was a conglomeration of relief, tenderness and fierce protectiveness. Ignoring the fuzziness in her head, she maneuvered with care to pull the baby into her arms, mindful of the IV still attached to her, and the pain when she moved. Nuzzling the little head, Polly smelled the soft sweetness of baby powder.

Uncertainly, she unwrapped the baby. She’d had little experience with infants, but she would learn. Quickly. And right now, she had to be certain that this little one was truly all right.

Exposed to the coolness of the hospital air, the baby made little gasps of protest. Her blue eyes opened, though they didn’t focus on Polly, and her dimpled little hands punched unevenly at the air. She had the right numbers of tiny fingers and toes, and the little dark stump of her umbilical cord was a contrast against her pink skin. A disposable diaper was fastened over her, and rather than removing it, Polly pulled it away from the baby’s tiny tummy and peered inside.

“Perfect,” she sighed as she wrapped the baby back into the blanket. She held the small form protectively against her side. I won’t let any of this touch you, she thought.

“How are you doing?” asked a deep, male voice.

Startled, Polly looked up. It was the same doctor who had come in earlier: R. Snyder. The one who looked and sounded familiar. Standing beside her, he seemed tall, though it was hard to tell how tall while she was lying in a hospital bed. His gingery hair, lighter than his brows, was tousled, as though he had just gotten out of bed. There was a shadow beneath his deep-set eyes and a gauntness in his cheeks that also indicated he could be tired. But the boyish smile he aimed at her with his wide mouth was contagious, and she found the corners of her lips twitching in return.

“I think they’re fine,” said the nurse. “Both of them.” She was much shorter than the doctor, and her platinum hair formed a mass of short waves about her round face. Her chin was just a little too shallow, but she beamed at Polly and the baby as though she had something to do with everything being perfect.

Maybe she did. “How did I get here?” Polly asked. “And the baby…I mean the delivery…Were either of you here? I don’t remember anything about it.” She felt sore all over.

“You were in good hands for the delivery,” the doctor said. “Dr. Larry Fletcher is Selborn Community Medical Center’s obstetrician. The baby’s heartbeat was a little weak, so he delivered her by cesarean section nearly as soon as you were brought in.”

“Don’t be so modest, Doc,” the nurse ordered. “I’m Nurse Frannie Meltzer, Polly. This is Dr. Reeve Snyder. He stopped you from bleeding to death from that lacerated arm of yours at the accident site. And then, soon as she was born, he took care of the baby. Right, Doc?”

“Well, more or less.” The man sounded nonplussed. Polly had to be reading that wrong. Doctors were like politicians, weren’t they? Egotistical? Never wrong?

She shuddered, and the movement enhanced the pain in her head, her arm. “Thank you,” she said stiffly. She noticed that his expression froze. Had she sounded aloof? She didn’t have to trust him, but neither did she need to be rude. “Thank you,” she repeated more fervently, gently hugging the baby to her. “For everything.”

“You’re very welcome.” He smiled once more—not with the same warmth as before, though. She felt suddenly sorry, as though she had somehow lost a friend.

She shook her head a little. He wasn’t her friend. No one here was her friend.

No one anywhere, except for her former roommate, Lorelei.

“So where am I?” she asked. The doctor had mentioned the name of the medical center, but Polly couldn’t recall it.

“Selborn Peak, Colorado,” the nurse said, arranging a blanket around the baby. “It’s a ways west of Denver, but much, much smaller.”

“Our medical center serves half a dozen communities around here,” Dr. Snyder told her, crossing his arms in his lab jacket. Even when he spoke about trivialities, his voice was low pitched and soothing. Polly enjoyed listening to it. “If you had to be injured at all, you were fortunate,” he continued. “You were closest to Selborn Peak, even though we’re several miles off the interstate. But when I first saw you in the car…” A haunted expression that she couldn’t interpret crossed his face but it made her suddenly want to offer him words of comfort. Strange. He was the doctor, she the patient.

And she was hardly in a position to comfort anyone.

“I’ll stop in later,” he said, “if that’s all right.”

The baby began to cry, a gaspy, sad sound, and Polly rocked her gently. “Please come back,” she said to the doctor, realizing she meant it. Maybe she could pretend, at least, that she had a friend here.

“Okay,” said Nurse Meltzer after Dr. Snyder had left. “We’ve been taking care of this little one, but I know she’s been waiting for you.”

She discussed with Polly how to breast-feed, then showed her how to hold the infant, who quieted immediately.

Then they were alone—Polly and the baby, whom she moved again, into a position that didn’t put so much pressure on her aching side. Laurel. That was what she would call her, after Lorelei. Laurel Black, just as her ID showed her to be Polly Black.

Polly reveled in the tiny, uneven tugging as the newborn suckled at her left breast. She hugged her warm, sweet baby to her, watching her in wonder.

Her baby. Hers alone.

“We’re going to be just fine, Laurel,” Polly whispered. “Just you and me.” She began to hum a soft, soothing song to the nursing infant, moving again slightly to ease her pain.

This hadn’t happened the way she had planned: to give birth by C-section in a hospital in some small Colorado Rockies town while running away from everything she had ever known. Or not known, which was closer to the truth.

To have an aching, mixed-up head, an arm that burned when she moved.

To have been so banged up that she had to postpone the rest of her flight for…how long? She didn’t yet know.

But nothing in her life was the way she had planned. She, of all people, would never have pictured herself a single mother thousands of miles from the town where she had grown up. A fugitive. All by herself, with Laurel, being cared for by the kindness of strangers.

She had learned, so abruptly, to count on no one’s kindness.

Still, she thought of Reeve Snyder. His profession was to help people. But he’d done more than just help. He had saved her life, hers and Laurel’s. Maybe that was why he seemed so familiar. Perhaps she had been conscious of him, somehow, as he took care of her.

A kind man? It certainly seemed that way. Good-looking, too; despite how frightened and miserable she had felt, she couldn’t help noticing his handsome features, youthfully pleasant yet maturely masculine.

Even those golden-brown eyes of his looked sincere. Concerned. Kind.

But why had he suddenly appeared so troubled?

It didn’t matter. She would never know him well enough to find out. The only thing that counted now was survival.

Survival for Polly and Laurel Black.

LATE THAT AFTERNOON, sitting on the stiff, ancient leather chair in his medical center office, Reeve tried to go over some of his insurance billings. But his mind wasn’t on preferred providers and allowed amounts and deductibles.

It was on the woman in the building next door, whom he had last seen that morning. Polly Black.

From what he had heard, the records office hadn’t been able to find her family from the scanty information on her ID. Had she contacted her husband yet? Even now, a frantic man could be on his way here from some unknown town, scared to death about the condition of his wife and baby.

Reeve could identify with him.

So much so, in fact, that he had to know. “Donna!” he called to his receptionist as he hurried down the hall. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“But—”

He didn’t stay to hear her objection.

The door to Polly’s room was partly closed. He knocked.

“Come in.” Her voice was stronger now, healthy. Feminine, yet not too high or shrill. A pretty voice. Reeve wondered how it would sound singing lullabies to her baby.

He pushed the door open. “Hello, Polly. I—” He stopped.

The hospital bed had been mechanically cranked up to support her back as she sat. She held the baby at her side, its tiny head against her small, firm breast as it suckled.

Though he took care of both adults and children, this kind of scene was one he seldom viewed. He felt embarrassed at interrupting such a private, intimate moment. But only for a second, for then a rush of tenderness and something else Reeve could not immediately identify swept through him, and he found himself clutching the door frame for support.

Loss. Sorrow. He realized anew that this woman, her accident and her baby evoked emotions he thought he had put behind him long ago.

“Hi, Dr. Snyder.” Thankfully, Polly’s words interrupted his bleak musings. Apparently flustered, she quickly maneuvered a blanket over the baby’s head to cover herself. Chewing her bottom lip with small, even teeth, she looked at Reeve expectantly, as though waiting for him to take her pulse or ask how she was feeling.

Of course she would consider him just another of the hospital crew parading through her room to check on her welfare. “Hi, Polly. I’m here to see how the baby is doing.”

For a moment, a hurt look passed over Polly’s pretty but bruised face. “She’s doing fine.” Her tone was bright, but she didn’t meet his eyes.

Had she hoped he was here to see her? The idea pleased him, and he felt his lips twitch toward a grin. He was here to see her as well as her child. He cared about her welfare, too.

Professionally, of course. That was all.

“I’m a primary care doctor, Polly,” he said gently. “You’ve been assigned Dr. Fletcher as your obstetrician. If it is all right with you, I’ll be your baby’s doctor while you’re here.”

“Oh. Of course. I’d like that.” She smiled then. Though Polly was still pale enough for her complexion to contrast starkly with her short, black hair, her color had improved. Her eyes were the soft gray of dove feathers, and they regarded him with a warmth that stirred ashes cooled long ago deep inside him. “I can’t imagine a better doctor for Laurel. That’s her name, you know. You’ve done so much for us already, Dr. Snyder.”

“Reeve,” he said. “This is a small town, and we go by first names here.” Not always, of course. But he somehow didn’t like the distance that “doctor” put between them.

“Reeve,” she repeated softly. The melodic sound of the single syllable tripping off her tongue made him want to request an encore. He took an involuntary step toward the bed, and his eyes met Polly’s soft, gray stare for an infinite, exquisite instant. He felt his pulse pound in his veins, wondered if he should grab a cuff to see how elevated his blood pressure had become.

The baby began to cry. Reeve welcomed—and cursed—the interruption.

“Shh,” Polly crooned softly. She cradled little Laurel, maneuvering the blanket over the flimsy hospital gown—but not before Reeve got another glimpse of an exposed curve of breast. The sight sent a wave of heat immediately to his groin.

What was wrong with him? Even if he hadn’t been here as her doctor, he was a professional.

Polly cuddled the tiny, swaddled body close. “Hush, Laurel,” she pleaded. “You’re all right, little one.” As the baby’s wails grew more frantic, Polly looked helplessly at Reeve. This was probably her first baby, and the new mother was still a neophyte. She didn’t look very old, after all—maybe midtwenties. Her complexion was nearly as smooth as her daughter’s, and despite the bump on her forehead she didn’t need any makeup to appear beautiful. Her nose was narrow and perfect, her eyes large with a thick fringe of lashes, her mouth just a little too wide.

“Here,” Reeve said. He repositioned the infant on Polly’s shoulder, then patted the baby’s back gently. The receiving blanket was a soft spun acrylic, warm from being against Polly and her daughter. In a moment, Laurel gave a small burp.

Polly laughed. It was a relieved, merry sound that made Reeve’s heart fill. “I should have figured that out.”

“You will the next time.” Reeve hesitated. “I imagine one of the staff has already gone over this with you, but I understand they weren’t able to locate your family. Can we call someone for you?” Your husband, he wanted to ask. Where is he, and why did he let you travel alone when you were so close to term?

She blanched as white as the sheet behind her, and her gray eyes grew as round and frightened as a captive doe’s. “You can’t.” She sounded almost frantic. Then her lips curled in an unsuccessful attempt at a smile. Her voice was much calmer. Even. Too even, as though she were reciting a memorized line. “Actually, I don’t have any family to notify. I was orphaned as a child, and my husband and I were divorced months ago because of my pregnancy.”

It didn’t take a psychiatrist’s credentials to know she was lying.

Reeve couldn’t breathe suddenly, as though someone had put a tourniquet around his windpipe. He felt his own color deepen. “I see. Well, good luck to you, Ms. Black.” He turned and strode toward the door. He had to get out of there.

It wasn’t his problem. Not this time. But he still felt as though he had been gut punched.

He heard a soft noise behind him, like someone crying.

None of his business, he told himself. But he found himself turning back as he reached the door.

Polly held her squirming baby against her. Tears ran down her cheeks beneath tightly shut eyes, and she was shuddering.

Reeve had to stop himself from taking a step toward her. He wouldn’t comfort her. He didn’t want to.

If she were keeping this baby away from her husband, Reeve could only despise her.

Unless she had a damned good reason.

Chapter Two

She was free. That was all that mattered.

Then why had Dr. Snyder’s snapping at her for no apparent reason caused her to break down? He meant nothing to her.

Except that he was her hero. He had saved her life—hers and Laurel’s. His had been the first kind voice she had heard in ages. And now he had turned against her. The knot in her stomach tightened more at the thought.

She shouldn’t feel particularly bad about him. That had happened a lot lately—people turning out to be quite different from what they had seemed. Her husband. Her own family.

Tears brimmed again in her eyes, but she refused to cry anymore.

She was all alone. Unless she could get to Lorelei, and even that possibility was fraught with danger, for anyone hunting her might recall Lorelei as her college roommate and realize she was heading there.

Polly sighed raggedly and hugged Laurel closer, inhaling her sweet-sour baby aroma. The movement reminded her of her injuries, since she still ached all over. Laurel made a soft protesting noise, and Polly rearranged her more comfortably, stroking the perfect, pudgy smoothness of the skin of her arm.

Polly. Polly Black. Thank heavens she had remembered to call herself that even when she had been most confused.

“Hi. How are we doing here?” The nurse with short platinum hair and a happy demeanor stood in the doorway. Nurse Meltzer.

Polly forced herself to smile. “Just fine.”

“Great!” The nurse bustled into the room and arranged the bedclothes around mother and baby. “She’s a tiny one, but she’s doing wonderfully. I know she was delivered early because of the accident. When was she really due?”

Polly hesitated. In case the news was out, she didn’t want anyone to associate her with the woman she had been. “Oh, right around now. My mother told me she gave birth to small babies, too. My sister and me.” She didn’t have a sister, of course. Just two stepbrothers, and both of them had—Well, never mind that.

“I see,” said Nurse Meltzer. “Lunch will be wheeled around in about an hour, and the TV’s remote control is on that little table beside you. Need anything for pain?”

Polly considered the idea. Her aches were bearable, and she needed to stay as alert as possible. “No, thanks.”

“Then can I get you anything else?”

A new life, Polly thought. No, she was taking care of that herself. But she knew what she really wanted. “Does anyone have copies of newspapers for the last few days?” She sought a plausible explanation. “I’m a comics addict, and I want to catch up on my favorites for the time I’ve been traveling.” Flimsy. She knew it. Her mind groped for names of famous comic strips in case the nurse asked which she liked.

Fortunately, she didn’t ask, didn’t even look suspicious. “Housekeeping’s usually good at tossing stuff like that,” she said. “But I’ll check.”

“Thanks, Nurse Meltzer,” said Polly.

“Frannie,” said the nurse. “I don’t like formalities. As long as you don’t mind me calling you Polly.”

“I don’t mind at all.” As long as you don’t call me— No, she wasn’t even going to let herself think that other name. It belonged in the past.

“We’ll take little Laurel into the nursery soon, too, so you can get some rest.”

Polly hugged the baby closer. “I want her to stay.”

“But after a C-section and your accident…well, we’ll see how you do. We usually get new C-section mothers up to walk by now, but because of your other injuries, we’ve left you alone. That’s why you got a private room, too, by the way. A little place like this doesn’t have many singles. But we’ll have you up and about soon. I’ll check with Dr. Fletcher.”

“Okay.” But Polly half wished Reeve Snyder was her doctor, not just Laurel’s. They’d been having such a friendly conversation, and then…

“But Dr. Snyder is concerned about you, too,” Frannie continued, as though reading her mind. “Not only did he help you on the road, but since he last checked on you, he’s been asking a lot of questions.”

Polly’s heart leaped into her throat and sat there pounding. She didn’t want anyone to ask questions about her, not even the kind and handsome doctor. Especially not Reeve Snyder, who had noticed her. She wanted to be an ant on the counter, a crumb on the floor. Totally inconspicuous. “Oh,” she said as calmly as she could, even mustering a smile she hoped looked nonchalant. “What kind of questions?”

“About your family, whether anyone had been able to tell them about your accident.”

Then he didn’t believe her. Polly’s muscles tensed, hurting her, and she started to shake. What was she going to do?

“One of the ladies in the office tried to find a phone number to go along with the address on your driver’s license,” Frannie continued, “but she didn’t come up with anything.” Her tone was quizzical.

Polly made herself take a deep, calming breath. She tried to sound nonchalant. “It’s an old address. I lived temporarily in an apartment after the divorce.” Funny how easily the lies poured out. Not long ago, she had been the kind of person who almost always told the truth. “I was on my way west to stay with a friend while I had the baby.” That, at least, was accurate.

“I see. Do you want us to call your friend?”

Polly shook her head. “No. She wasn’t expecting me at any particular time, and I wouldn’t want her to worry.” She wasn’t expecting me at all, Polly thought.

“Okay. Here, let’s make you more comfortable.” The nurse took Laurel from Polly and laid her gently in a bassinet beside the bed. “I’ll go check on those newspapers. If you need anything else, just ring.” She gestured toward the call button on the stand beside the bed.

“Thanks.”

As the nurse left the room, Polly sighed heavily, letting her head sink as she finally relaxed. Then she glanced at the baby. Laurel was napping peacefully, sucking a little in her sleep. Polly smiled tenderly at the tiny form. Her baby. A small, but gigantic miracle.

She would do anything to keep Laurel from harm.

She had already done much more than she’d ever imagined herself capable of.

Maybe it was time to go.

She looked around. A door and window were the only means of escape. She didn’t know what floor this room was on. And she was still hooked up to an IV. There was no easy flight from here. And she still felt rotten.

She supposed this was a typical hospital room, small and starkly white, with the bed in the center. At least the antiseptic smell wasn’t overpowering. Polly heard voices and footsteps as people walked down the hall—other mothers with new babies?

Someone looking for her?

She shuddered. No, no one would know she was here.

But Reeve had been asking questions, even though she’d told him she had no family. He might give her away.

Not intentionally. He had saved her. He had, for the most part, acted sympathetic. Surely he was just curious. Trying to help. He wouldn’t put her in jeopardy now, if he knew better.

Unless…She shook her head so sharply that pain shot behind her injured forehead, and she groaned softly. Reeve Snyder couldn’t know her family. Not way out here.

She couldn’t let paranoia get the better of her.

She didn’t dare forget she was always in danger.

For the moment, she was trapped. But as soon as she was well enough, she would leave this place.

Awkwardly, despite her soreness and the IV in her arm, she reached out to pick up the TV remote. It was midafternoon, between most news broadcasts. Fortunately, the hospital had cable. Keeping the volume low, she channel surfed till she found a cable news channel, where two commentators discussed the latest Middle East peace talks. Polly pressed the mute button and settled back in the bed.

She awoke a short while later when the nurse returned, arms filled with newspapers. “Couldn’t find them all,” she said. “But I think most of the comic sections are here.”

Comic…oh, yes. That had been her excuse. “Thanks.”

“In case you want to know more about the area, I brought the community paper, too—the Selborn Peak Standard. It’s got mostly store ads and classifieds, but it’s trying to get a reputation for local news stories.”

For the next half hour, Polly poured through the papers, focusing on the Denver Post. One issue was dated the day after the event that had made her flee her home. None of them carried anything about it.

Maybe that wasn’t surprising. Colorado was a long way from Connecticut. Still, what had happened, and to whom, could easily have made national news—if her family had so chosen. The way they decided to play things would be a message to her—provided that she could figure out the right interpretation.

If nothing got into the news, that would mean they had determined to keep it as much of a nonevent as they could. They would want her to return home as though nothing had happened. As long as she stayed quiet and became a good little girl once more, everything would be fine.

If the story were publicized, though, she would have to see how it was handled to determine the message. And if—

A knock sounded on the door, and she jumped a little, startled. She looked up to find Dr. Reeve Snyder standing there.

His tall form filled the doorway. He was again dressed in a lab coat that did nothing to hide the width of his shoulders. Its bright whiteness set off the gingery color of his thick, neatly combed hair.

For a physician who wasn’t her doctor, he certainly showed up a lot.

And for a woman who didn’t want any connection with anyone, who wanted no questions asked about her, she certainly was glad to see him. Polly found herself smiling warmly despite the way he had left earlier.

“Mind if we come in?” he asked. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

“Sure, Dr.—uh, Reeve.”

She tried to interpret the look on his face as he stood at the door. The steep angles of his dark ginger eyebrows seemed to signify anger, yet there was a longing in his eyes.

Strange, Polly thought. And wrong.

She of all people shouldn’t try to read others’ minds from their faces. She had been so mistaken before.

Their eyes met then, his a deep, golden brown. The shadows disappeared for a moment. There was something in his expression that seemed to toss a silken line between Polly and him, connecting them.

No. That couldn’t be. She made herself blink, and the connection was gone. She looked down at the newspapers beside her. How ridiculous she was being! He was the doctor who had saved Laurel and her. He probably saved a life every morning before breakfast, two more on Sundays. If he looked or sounded familiar, it didn’t mean anything. She was nothing special to him.

When she dared to glance up again, he had turned to say something to the person behind him. Her heart skipped a beat. What if whomever he brought was…

Silly. She was way off in the wilds of Colorado, for heaven’s sake. And Reeve’s presence would be a buffer, no matter who he was talking to.

Keeping her voice low so as not to wake the baby, Polly tried to put her nervousness aside. “Sorry things are such a mess, but I’ve just been reading.” She pushed aside some newspapers and smoothed the sheet over her awkwardly short hospital gown, wishing she had a long robe on instead.

Not that it mattered, of course. Nothing had passed between them before. Yet, for that one moment, his gaze had seemed to wrap around and hug her.

How absurd she was being!

“Glad you’re feeling up to a little reading.” Reeve finally strode into the room, an appealing sureness to his walk.

The man accompanying him was much shorter than him, and his T-shirt and tight, stained blue jeans revealed a wiry build. “This is Ernie Pride,” Reeve said. “He’s the one who saw you go off the road and called me.”

Polly offered her hand to Ernie, ignoring the soreness the motion caused. His grip was strong, and she thought she smelled a whiff of paint. “Thanks,” she said sincerely. “From both of us.” She gestured toward the bassinet where Laurel slept.

“You’re welcome.” Ernie bent to look at the baby. “She’s a little beauty, isn’t she?”

Polly beamed.

“Bet her daddy’s going to be right proud of her,” Ernie continued.

Polly felt her smile freeze, and she darted a glance at Reeve. His expression remained blank, but she could sense disapproval radiating from him like heat from a sun-baked sidewalk. Why should that bother her so much? She didn’t care what he thought.

She forced herself to shrug. “Oh, her daddy divorced me when I became pregnant. She’s just my baby.” And that would be the way it would stay, Reeve Snyder and his unexplained displeasure with her notwithstanding.

No matter how badly—and incongruously—that displeasure hurt her.

“I’d be surprised at any father who wouldn’t want to know about the birth of his child,” Reeve said. His tone was mild, but his eyes had narrowed, and a shadow again darkened them. “Don’t you think someone ought to inform him?”

Like you? Polly thought, beginning to panic. This angry, curious man might be trying to find the baby’s father—and in the process he could learn something about her. And that could only end in disaster.

She made herself shrug again, praying she looked nonchalant. “Well, Dr. Snyder,” she improvised, “not that it’s any of your business, but just guess why a man would dump his wife because she’s pregnant.” He looked suddenly discomfited, and she pressed her advantage without waiting for him to reply. “Because there’s some doubt whether this baby was his.” Polly smiled snidely, though she was cringing inside. As though she, of all people, could have been unfaithful—even after all her husband had put her through.

And the thought of Reeve thinking she could do such a thing sent a stab of misery shooting through her.

But her comments had had the effect she’d desired—sort of. Something inside twisted and began to shrivel as Reeve looked at her with distaste. “You were right in the first place, Ms. Black,” he said. “It was none of my business.”

Ernie shifted his weight from one leg to the other, inserting a thumb into the waistband of his jeans and hiking them up. “Glad I could be of help,” he said. “But I’d best be leaving. Ms. Black, you be careful driving when they let you out of here. City council may not be letting out next time.”

“I’ll be careful,” Polly said fervently, wondering what he meant by “city council.” But he had already turned away.

So had Reeve. The sight of him leaving made her want to cry again. She watched the stiffness in his broad shoulders beneath his white doctor’s coat as he followed Ernie toward the door.

Polly closed her eyes, wishing she could call him back, could tell the truth—or enough of it so he wouldn’t despise her.

But this was better. He would keep his distance. Just because he’d been her hero didn’t mean she could make him her friend.

And certainly didn’t mean she could harbor thoughts of something even closer between them. It was too soon after Carl’s death to think of any man that way. And the way Carl had been…Polly doubted she would ever dare trust a man again.

She let herself collapse back onto the raised bed, but before Reeve left, another man shouldered by him into the room. “Ms. Black?” he asked. His small glasses had the thick black frames that Polly believed had been popular in the 1960s. The man looked as though he might have been a throwback to the era of hippies. Although his hair was thin and wispy, it nearly reached to his shoulders, and he wore a suit that appeared to be polyester.

“Yes, I’m Polly Black,” she replied warily. She needed a nap, and she had an idea this visit would not be as pleasant as the one from Ernie.

Reeve followed the man back into the room. Polly felt her pulse quicken in pleasure.

Cut it out, she told herself. Whatever his reason for returning, it wasn’t because he was glad to be with her.

Again, Reeve made the introductions. “Ms. Black, this is Clifford, from the medical center’s administration department.” She wasn’t sure whether Clifford was his first or last name.

“Exactly.” Clifford’s voice was high and nasal, and he sniffled as he talked. “We need some information. I’ve forms for you to fill out, and we need to talk about your insurance.”

Polly drew in her breath. She had been too relieved that she and Laurel were all right to consider the practicalities, but of course their hospital stay would be expensive. She had even had surgery; she was sure cesarean sections were not cheap.

She had money—some. But her flight had been spontaneous, and she hadn’t had time to grab much cash. She’d already charged gas on her credit card. She doubted the card’s limit was high, and eventually someone would realize it was a fake.

And if she used it again here, someone might be able to track her down.

What could she do? She had no one to ask for a loan. Not even Lorelei; a struggling actress in Hollywood would not be able to scrounge up the money this hospital stay was likely to require. Even if Polly dared to call her. She’d planned to get there first, then figure out some way to meet up with her friend short of telephoning her.

She wouldn’t be surprised if Lorelei had already been contacted. Her phone might even be tapped.

But Polly had no place else to go. And now she didn’t know if she had a drivable car. She hadn’t enough money for another clunker.

“Ms. Black?” Clifford’s nasal voice cut into her thoughts.

“Sorry,” she said. “I’m afraid a hospital visit wasn’t in my plans. I was going to a friend’s, and I was planning to have natural birth with a midwife. I…I have no money or insurance.”

“I see.” Clifford’s pale eyes squinted behind his glasses, and he did not look at all happy.

He glanced at Reeve, who stood impassively near the doorway, watching the scene. Polly cringed inside. Now, on top of everything else, he would think of her as a deadbeat.

“It’s not that we’re not compassionate here at Selborn Community Medical Center,” said Clifford. “But these things must be dealt with promptly, and—”

“I don’t think Ms. Black’s precarious state of health allows for a discussion of finances now, Clifford,” Reeve interrupted.

Polly glanced at him in relieved surprise. Moments ago, he had acted as though he found her as despicable as a cockroach on a hospital lunch tray. Now he seemed to be protecting her.

“Thanks,” she said. “You’re probably right. I feel awfully tired now. But Mr. Clifford—” she lifted her chin toward the scowling little man “—I don’t welsh on debts.”

An idea suddenly struck her. Here she was, in a tiny town in the middle of nowhere. No one here knew she wasn’t Polly Black, and any people her family had out searching for her would believe she was still pregnant; Laurel actually hadn’t been due for a month.

Selborn Peak, Colorado, just might be the haven Polly—and Laurel—needed.

“I don’t have to be where I was going for some time,” she continued, excitement making her heart flutter. “Once I’m feeling better, if I could find a job here at your hospital, one where I would still be able to take care of Laurel, I could hang around till my bill is paid.”

The corners of Clifford’s pinched mouth curved up as though he attempted a return smile. “That might work. The center has a good child care facility for the doctors and staff, though your baby’s much too young—their minimum age’s six months, I think. I’ll keep my ears open to see what kind of job might be available. Though in your condition, and with a new baby…”

“I’ve always been healthy,” Polly said eagerly. “I’m sure I’ll bounce back just fine.” A child care facility, right where she worked! If she stayed here long enough to take advantage of it, she could drop in all the time, be near her baby, even while on the job.

But what would she do in the meantime?

A sudden wave of helplessness washed over her. She knew no one here. Whom could she ask for advice?

And hadn’t she determined she would never again depend on anyone else’s assistance?

She closed her eyes for just a moment, then opened them again as she fought to regain her resolve.

She would find a way.

“Thank you, Mr. Clifford,” she said, meaning it. Thanks to the sour little man, everything would work out fine. She was certain of it.

She looked toward the door, to find Reeve Snyder still just inside. He was staring at her. Once again, she could not read the cool expression on his face—but although it might be wishful thinking on her part, he did not look as though the idea of her staying for a while upset him.

And that somehow made her feel much better.

“Here you are!” A throaty feminine voice projected from the doorway, and in marched a woman Polly hadn’t seen before. She was nearly as tall as Reeve, with a flowing broomstick skirt and peasant blouse that dipped nearly to her ample cleavage. “I’ve been looking all over for you.” She took Reeve’s chin in one hand and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“Hi, Alicia,” he said. Stepping back, he looked a little embarrassed as he glanced toward Polly. Or maybe that was just her imagination. In any event, Polly felt strangely disappointed, as though a present she had dreamed about for years had suddenly been snatched out of her hands.

“Who’s this?” Alicia asked, her long strides swishing her skirt as she approached the bed. Her jaw was strong and her nose just a little too long, but combined with her broad cheekbones and large, probing brown eyes, made a striking effect. Her wavy hair, held back by a pair of narrow reading glasses, was deep russet. The shade didn’t look natural, but then, neither was Polly’s. “Is this our little accident victim?” the woman pressed.

Polly tensed. How did this woman know about her?

As though reading her mind, Alicia said, “I know everything that goes on around here, but I’m always eager to learn more.”

“Alicia’s a reporter,” Clifford said.

That explained it. It also made Polly’s blood begin to freeze in her veins.

“That’s right. I’m with the Selborn Peak Standard.” Alicia lifted one of the papers from Polly’s bed and pointed to an article on the first page. “I do features, news, anything. So tell me about your accident.” With a flourish, she pulled a small tape recorder from a pocket in her skirt.

Oh, Lord, Polly thought. The last thing she needed was publicity. She had knowledge that could put her family—those she had thought of as her family—away for years. If they didn’t stop her first.

Then there was what she had done to Carl.

No, she had vowed to stay silent. It was safer. “I…I’m sorry,” she said. “There’s nothing much to tell, and I’m so tired….” She let her voice trail off, sending a pleading glance toward Reeve.

His return look seemed a combination of puzzlement, amusement and compassion. “My patient needs rest,” he said. Polly glanced at him in surprise. She wasn’t his patient; Laurel was. But she wasn’t going to argue with him.

“All right,” Alicia said, popping the recorder back in her pocket. “I’ll let you take me to dinner then.”

Reeve’s dark ginger brows knit as he opened his mouth. Polly had a sense he was about to refuse the invitation. She was incongruously hoping he would refuse the invitation. But with a sympathetic glance toward her that seemed to tell her his refusal might mean Alicia’s continued probing, he said, “Good idea. Let’s go.”

Clifford left the room first, followed by Alicia. Polly sighed and leaned back into her pillow as she watched Reeve trail behind. He turned back to her at the door. She thought he was going to say something. But with a shrug of those broad shoulders, he left.

After all the visitors, all the nervousness of Alicia’s visit, Polly felt unbearably sore and exhausted.

That had to explain why she felt so bad about knowing Reeve Snyder was having dinner with that dazzling reporter.

IT WAS LATE EVENING. The door was ajar.

The first time Reeve had entered Polly Black’s hospital room unannounced, he had come upon her nursing the baby. The sight had been utterly tender, yet even now he throbbed in recollection, as he recalled its erotic effect on him.

But even more unnerving had been the connection he’d felt between them later that day, when he’d arrived with Ernie. Reeve had felt tied to her even more strongly than when he had held her hand in the emergency room. It was as though he were linked in some indescribable, immutable way with the lovely young woman who seemed to represent all he despised.

Not that she was Annette. His deceased wife hadn’t even had the decency to act embarrassed when she lied.

After dinner with Alicia, Reeve had taken her home, then had come back to the hospital. He had some paperwork to do, he’d told himself.

But he knew that wasn’t the only reason he was there.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, he tapped gently on the door.

He thought he heard a reply, but when he walked into the dimly lit room he found her asleep. Her bed had been lowered, and the baby wasn’t in the room. Quietly, he began to slip out again.

“Reeve?” Her voice was soft and husky, strangely seductive in this stark, sterile setting. It reminded him of waking up beside a woman after a night of passionate lovemaking. It had been a long time since he had experienced that. He knew Polly’s tone was the result of her sleepiness and nothing else, yet he felt his stirring libido awaken even more.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

“I was awake.” She pulled the sheet about her neck and maneuvered herself awkwardly into a sitting position. The IV was no longer in her hand, but she clearly still felt sore. Her mussed, dark hair formed a soft, wavy cap that framed her face, and her eyes were only half-open, reminding Reeve of sweet seduction.

What was the matter with him? He was a doctor, used to seeing patients in all states of undress, and yet this woman was making him forget every ounce of detachment he’d ever possessed.

“Well, in any event you’re awake now.” His voice sounded more gruff than he had intended, and he saw her wince. He knew she was fragile; he had seen tears in her eyes before. Now he felt like even more of a louse.

“How was dinner?” she asked. He couldn’t quite identify the emotion in her tone: curiosity? Irritation?

Jealousy?

Unlikely, though the thought somehow appealed to him. More likely, she was simply still sleepy.

“Fine,” he replied noncommittally. “Guess what?”

“What?” Her gaze was wary, as though she thought he would load on her the straw that would break her back.

“After we spoke with Clifford, I made sure he looked for a part-time job for you here at the center, to start when you’re recuperated enough. I called after dinner. He’s found something.”

“Really?” Her smile lit up her entire lovely face, and Reeve found himself wanting to return it. “What is it?” She propped her weight on one hand resting on the bed.

“Wait.” He hated seeing her look so uncomfortable, so he drew closer and pushed the button that adjusted the back of the bed. It rose with a whir, and she leaned back as soon as it stopped. This close, he could smell her soft spicy scent, the one he had been aware of even when he’d discovered her in her wrecked car, except now the scent was incongruously interspersed with her infant’s baby powder. He pulled up a metal chair from beneath the window and sat near the bed. “How are you at convincing delinquent accounts to cough up what they owe?”

She gave a small laugh. “Like me?”

He laughed, too. “Well, at least you’re willing to pay. Some people who owe the center ignore their debts.”

“I’ll pay, I promise. And if I have to do it by strong-arming others into paying, too, I’ll manage.” She sounded so serious that he wanted to squeeze the small hand that lay on top of the white bedclothes. Strong-arm? She seemed too delicate for that. And yet her offer to stay and work here, while still recuperating from an accident and surgery, told him that she had a powerful determination that was inconsistent with her vulnerable demeanor.

“Great. As soon as you’re feeling up to it, I’ll have Clifford fill you in more about the job. Oh, and Frannie Meltzer has an idea about child care.”

“Thank you,” Polly said. “I really appreciate this. I can’t tell you how much.” Her face glowed, her small chin tipped up and he had a sudden urge to bend and kiss those full, tempting lips.

He stood in a hurry. “I’d better go.” He walked briskly toward the door, but remembered something and turned back to her.

She was staring after him. There was a longing expression on her face, as though she had wanted him to kiss her.

He shook his head. Fool. He was imagining it. Even if he weren’t, such an act would be utterly inappropriate. She was a patient at the medical center. His medical center. She was nearly his patient, for he had treated her before anyone else.

And, he reminded himself, she had a husband somewhere. Maybe a divorced husband, but one who just might want to know about this baby, despite what Polly had claimed about sleeping around—a claim Reeve couldn’t bring himself to believe.

“I almost forgot,” he said. “Clifford said someone called, asking after you.”

She didn’t move, yet seemed suddenly to cringe. Her face drained of the little color it held. “Who?”

“I’m not sure, but I had the impression it was the guy from the gas station where they towed your car. Clifford said something about selling it for scrap parts.”

“Oh.” Her voice sounded weak, but it grew stronger. “Well, sure. Though I’ll want to talk to him about it first, just in case it can be fixed.”

Reeve gave a brief, ironic laugh. “Not the car I saw. But I’ll tell Clifford to have the guy speak with you.”

He said his goodbyes, then left the room. He paused outside the door in bemusement. Was Polly Black a runaway wife? That would explain a lot. Her reactions were not those of a woman simply traveling to stay with a friend. She had seemed afraid when he’d mentioned that someone was asking after her. She had seemed terrified when she’d learned Alicia was a reporter.

And if she were hiding from her husband, then what? If it came to a choice between helping her hide and revealing her whereabouts to the poor bastard whose kid was being kept from him, which would Reeve do?

Maybe it was his attraction to this woman that made Reeve unsure whose side he would take.

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