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“I never get involved with someone in my investigation.” Neil spoke, with his finger on her cheek.

“Because you lose perspective?” Isobel asked.

“Because the guilty can seem innocent and the innocent can seem guilty. I always go by the book.”

Neil’s hand slid to her neck under her curly hair. The warmth of his skin felt so good… the touch of his fingers against her scalp so sensually right. When he tilted her head up and lowered his, she knew exactly what was going to happen.

He paused just an instant in case she wanted to back away. She knew she should. But she definitely didn’t want to. Curiosity and need were much stronger than any admonition from her good sense that she was consorting with the enemy. Right now, Neil didn’t feel like the enemy.

It wasn’t her enemy whose arms she was in right now.

KAREN ROSE SMITH

Award-winning author Karen Rose Smith has seen more than fifty romances published. Each book broadens her world and challenges her in a unique way.

Readers can e-mail Karen through her website at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at PO Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331, USA.

Her Mr Right?

Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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To the “gathering” group

from York Catholic High School’s class of’67.

It’s been wonderful reconnecting again.

Thanks for the friendship and good times.

Chapter One

“You work with elderly patients. Is that correct, Miss Suarez?”

Isobel felt as if she had been viewed under a high-powered microscope for the past five minutes. Neil Kane had the power to make her pulse race simply by passing her in the hall. It wasn’t his status as an investigator for the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office that rattled her most. Rather it was her response to him as a man, with his sandy-brown hair graying at the temples, his strong jaw with its cleft at the center, his tall, trim and fit physique under a charcoal suit. He was attractive enough to turn the heads of most women.

She didn’t want her head turned—especially not by a man who was trying to pin wrongdoing on hospital personnel. Who was attempting to discover fraud that could be the downfall of Walnut River General, or more insidiously, make a takeover by Northeastern HealthCare a probability instead of a possibility.

“Miss Suarez?” the investigator repeated, those gold-flecked brown eyes sending a tingle up her spine.

Isobel intended to select every word carefully. “I’m a social worker at this hospital, Mr. Kane. I tend to any patient whose case history finds its way to my desk.”

They sat alone in his temporary office, a small conference room, with the door closed. A laptop was positioned in front of Kane and a legal pad sat beside it. From her seat around the corner of the table, she couldn’t see what was on the screen of the laptop.

When the investigator leaned back in his chair and rubbed the back of his neck, his knee was very close to hers. She didn’t move an inch.

“I think everyone who works at this hospital has taken a course on how to be evasive,” he muttered.

She didn’t comment. By age thirty-five, she’d learned when silence had more effect than a retort.

He blew out a breath and she suspected his day had been as long as hers. From what she’d heard, he’d been interviewing personnel in this room since seven-thirty this morning; he’d been here eleven hours straight.

“Miss Suarez. You told me you’ve worked here ten years.” He leaned forward. “In that amount of time, what age group has occupied most of your attention?”

She could only pick up a hint of his cologne, something woodsy and very masculine. “I haven’t kept track.”

“Well, then, isn’t it a good thing we have records and computer programs that do keep track.” His voice had an edge to it that was part frustration, part anger.

Her own temper was precariously perched. “Why are you asking me the question if you already have the answer? You know, Mr. Kane, if you try hard enough to catch a fish, you might catch the wrong fish.”

His brows arched. “Meaning?”

Impatiently, she shoved her very curly, chin-length auburn hair behind her ear. “Meaning…everyone I work with at this hospital is dedicated to his or her profession. We’re here to take care of patients, not in any way to take advantage of them. I don’t know what you’re specifically investigating—there are so many rumors floating around, I can’t count them all—but whatever it is, maybe someone made a mistake. Maybe there was a computer error. Maybe there’s no culprit or fraud or theft at all.”

He studied her for a few very long moments. “What would you have our office do, Miss Suarez? Ignore the possibility of wrongdoing? Wouldn’t the guilty love that!”

The buzz around the hospital was that Neil Kane was the enemy. Everyone from the chief of staff to the night security guard had banded together to treat him as if he were. They believed in each other and the work they did here. This hospital was about patient care. That could change drastically if Northeastern HealthCare took over. If a conglomerate ran Walnut River General, the hospital would consider financial well-being more important than helping the residents of Walnut River.

Frustrated herself by a long day made longer by Neil Kane’s hard-edged questioning, she made a suggestion. “If you want to know what I do and who I help, shadow me. Shadow the doctors and nurses. See what we do in a day. Do that, and then ask your questions. At least then you’ll be asking the right ones.”

They sat in silence for a moment, both stunned by her outburst. Eager to avoid his gaze, Isobel looked down and dusted some imaginary lint from her skirt. She had worn a lime-green suit today to celebrate spring and the beginning of May. This was the time of year she liked best, and she wanted to bring the idea of new beginnings inside. The longish jacket hid the extra pounds she’d put on since she’d moved back in with her dad. The chunky jasper beads she wore around her neck carried shades of green and brown that coordinated well with her tan silk shell. Neil Kane was studying her necklace, studying her face, studying her. Because she was being confrontational? Or because…

A man hadn’t looked at her as an attractive woman in over two years. She wasn’t feeling attractive these days—not with the extra fifteen pounds, not with her mass of curls needing a trim, not with the circles under her eyes showing her fatigue.

Kane’s voice lost its sharpness as he asked, “What are the right questions?”

Was he serious? Did he really want to know? “The right questions are the ones that matter. Do the professionals who work here care about the patients? Do they punch in and punch out, or do they work when they’re needed? If they aren’t making salaries commensurate with pay at a larger hospital, why do they stay? Those are the questions that would be a start.”

“Tell me what you do in a day.”

In spite of herself, Isobel noticed the stubble shadowing Kane’s jaw. She saw the tiny scar over his right brow. She wondered if there was someone in his life who could ease the creases around his eyes into laugh lines. Amongst all the other rumors about him, she’d heard he’d once been a homicide detective with the Boston P. D. Was that why he seemed so… so…unyielding?

Leaning back a few inches, she took a calming breath. “I check on patients I’m following to see how they fared overnight. My supervisor hands me the files on new admissions that I can help. I’m always writing progress notes. I meet with families, confer with therapists and find placements in rehab facilities and nursing homes.”

“Do you find yourself giving more time to some patients than others?”

He’d asked the question mildly as if it were just another in a long list. But for some reason, it put her on alert. “Some cases are more complicated.”

“What do you do when there isn’t family to consult?”

“I try to do what’s best for the patient, of course.”

“Of course.”

The way he said it made her hackles rise, and her temper flipped to the ruffled side. “Are you accusing me of something?”

“Did it sound as if I was?”

“Talk about evasive,” she murmured.

“I’m asking the questions, Miss Suarez. This isn’t give and take. It’s an investigation.”

“A preliminary investigation. Doesn’t that mean your office isn’t even sure if there’s anything to investigate?”

“You know the saying, where there’s smoke…” He trailed off, letting her fill in the rest.

“There’s another old saying—when a man looks for dirt, he’ll miss the gold.”

“Where did that come from?” He seemed mildly amused.

Isobel frowned. She felt as if he were laughing at her. The quote came from her dad. At sixty-eight, he spouted as much wisdom as he did complaints these days. “Do you have any more questions for me?” she asked curtly.

“Yes, I do. Tell me about Doctor Ella Wilder and J.D. Sumner.”

Isobel considered how best to answer him then finally decided on “They’re engaged to be married.”

“How did they meet?”

“Is that another question you already know the answer to?”

“Humor me.”

Everyone knew how Ella and J.D. had met. “Mr. Sumner had an accident. He slipped on the ice.”

“Here at the hospital?”

“Yes, in the parking lot.”

“And Dr. Wilder treated him.”

“Yes.”

“Do you know any more about it than that?”

Now Isobel was really puzzled. “I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Did you know the nature of Mr. Sumner’s injury?”

“I believe he had torn cartilage in his knee.”

“Isn’t arthroscopic surgery for torn cartilage usually done on an outpatient basis?”

Now she saw where this was going. “Mr. Sumner’s case was a little different.”

“Why is that?”

“In February he was a representative from Northeastern HealthCare.”

“So he received extra special treatment?”

“All of our patients receive the same treatment, but J.D. was a stranger in town. He didn’t know anyone, and he didn’t have anybody to help him.”

Kane leaned forward, his gaze piercing. “You were called in on the case?”

“No. There was no need for that.”

“Because Dr. Wilder took a personal interest in him?” Kane asked mildly.

His tone didn’t fool her for a minute. “What do you want to know?”

After a thoughtful pause, the investigator was blunt. “I want to know if he was charged for special treatment. He was kept longer than necessary.”

Her defensive guard slipped into place once more. “I understand since you’re from the Massachusetts Attorney General’s Office that you have access to medical records as well as financial records. If that’s true, you can verify why Mr. Sumner was kept.”

“The medical records say he had a fever.”

She shrugged. “And what does Mr. Sumner say?”

“He said he had a fever.”

“Then why wouldn’t you believe that?”

When Neil Kane wouldn’t answer her question, she suspected why. Someone was feeding his office information—false information. There was a leak in the hospital and she guessed that someone in the administrative ranks was doing the damage. Someone had their own agenda to make the hospital look bad so Northeastern HealthCare could take over more easily.

Neil Kane seemed very close, though he hadn’t moved and neither had she. “Patient records aside, can you tell me if Dr. Wilder transported Mr. Sumner at any time?”

“Why is that important?” she fenced, leaning back, putting more distance between them.

“I’m trying to understand what’s fact and what’s fiction, what are legitimate charges and what aren’t.”

The long day caught up to her. There was nothing of substance she could tell this man even if she wanted to. “My area is social work, Mr. Kane. Unless I’m following a case, I don’t have contact or interaction with the other patients in the hospital.”

“Oh, but I’m sure you hear plenty in your position. Besides the fact that I understand that you and Dr. Wilder and Simone Garner are friends.”

At that leap into personal territory, Isobel stood. “I understand you have an investigation to conduct. I don’t like talking to you about my cases, but I will if I have to. But I won’t discuss my personal relationships.”

When he stood, too, she noticed he was a good six inches taller than she was and seemed to take up most of the breathable space in the room. That was her very overactive imagination telling her that, but nevertheless, oxygen seemed a little harder to come by. He wasn’t menacing, but he was imposing.

“Are you going to stonewall me?” he asked in a low, determined tone.

“No. I’m just setting boundaries.”

He frowned. “And what happens if I have to cross them?”

“I’ll clam up and not talk to you at all.”

As he studied her, he seemed to gauge her level of conviction. “There are consequences to obstructing an investigation.”

“Do I need a lawyer?” she returned.

He blew out a long breath. “All right. You want to leave for now? Fine. Leave. But we’re not done. I need answers and I intend to get them.”

She could tell him he’d get those answers when hell froze over, but he was the one who held the power here. She was usually law-abiding and cooperative, but so much was at stake—the survival and reputation of Walnut River General.

Swallowing another retort, she picked up her purse, went to the door and opened it. Neil Kane didn’t say another word, but she could feel his gaze on her back as she left the conference room. She suspected he wasn’t the type of man who would give up easily. Still, round one went to her.

She wouldn’t think about round two until it was staring her in the face…until Neil Kane was staring her in the face.

Then?

Then she’d deal with him again after a weekend of chores, sleep and gardening. Next week she was sure she wouldn’t react to him so strongly. Next week she’d figure out how to be diplomatic. Diplomacy was usually her middle name. She’d just have to figure out why Neil Kane got under her skin…and make sure he didn’t do it again.

Most of the houses in Isobel’s childhood neighborhood had been built in the 1950s. She’d been five when her family had moved into the house on Sycamore Street, her sister Debbie seven, their brother Jacob three. She remembered the day they’d moved in to the modest brick two-story with its flowerpots on either side of the steps and the glassed-in back porch where she and her brother and sister played whenever the weather permitted. The neighbor on the left, Mrs. Bass, had brought them chocolate-chip cookies. The neighbor in the small ranch house on the right, Mr. Hannicut, had given her dad a hand unloading box after box from the truck someone had loaned him.

Isobel had never expected she’d be living back here again after being on her own since college.

The detached garage, which sat at the end of their lot in the backyard, only housed one car—her father’s. Because of the shoulder surgery he’d had two weeks ago, he couldn’t drive now. He hated that fact and so did Isobel because it was making him grumpy. Lots of things about his recuperation were making him grumpy.

She parked in front of the house knowing that he’d had his physical therapy appointment today. One of his senior center buddies had taken him.

Although May in Massachusetts brought warmer days, the nights could still be cold. Without a coat to protect her, she quickly opened the front door and called over the chatter of the television, “I’m home.” She’d phoned him late this afternoon to see how his session had gone and to tell him she’d be late. He’d been monosyllabic, not a good indication that he’d be in a better mood tonight.

After a glance at Isobel, her father flipped off the TV. “It’s about time.”

He rubbed his hand over his shoulder as if it ached.

Isobel tried to put her fatigue aside and remind herself what her dad must be going through. “I’m sorry I’m so late. As I told you on the phone, I had a meeting.”

“You need a job that doesn’t run you ragged fifteen hours a day.” John Suarez lowered the leg lift on his recliner, pushed himself to the edge of the seat, then used his right arm to lever himself up.

He was a stocky man who stood about five-eight. At sixty-eight, his black curly hair had receded but was still thick. His eyes were the same dark brown as Isobel’s. She’d gotten her red-brown hair from her Irish mother.

The stab of memory urged Isobel’s gaze to the photos of her family on the mantel above the fireplace.

Her father must have noticed. “She’d want you to slow down, go out and meet a nice young man and have some kids.”

“As if wishing could make it so,” Isobel murmured, then smiled at her father. “I like my work. You know that. And if Mom wants me to get married, she’s just going to have to toss the right guy down here in front of my nose.”

“I still don’t understand why you broke up with Tim. He treated you nice. He owned his own business. Bicycle shops are really taking off these days. Sometimes I think you’re just too picky.”

Picky? She supposed that was one way of putting it. After her mother died, she’d moved back in with her father to ease his grief, to help with the chores, never intending to stay permanently in her childhood home. But her dad had begun having shoulder problems and was limited in what he could do for himself. Isobel had always liked cycling and she’d bought a new bike. The owner of a cycle shop, Tim, had asked her out and over the next year they’d gotten serious.

But Tim had never liked the fact that she lived with her dad. He’d insisted that if her father needed help, he should move into an assisted-living facility. Isobel had already lost one parent and she’d known how much the family home meant to her father. How could she suggest he leave when he still felt her mother’s presence here? In the end, her father had been the reason she and Tim had broken up. Family was important to her. She’d never ignore or abandon them and that’s what Tim had wanted her to do.

“Tim just wasn’t right for me, Dad.” She headed for the kitchen. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll have that roast beef and mashed potatoes from last night warmed up.”

“Cyrus and I finished the pie Mrs. Bass made, so there won’t be any dessert,” he called after her. “You really need to go to the store. We’re out of ice cream and orange juice, too.”

“I’ll shop first thing in the morning, then I want to get out into the garden.”

“If you plant flowers, they could still freeze overnight.”

“I’ll cover them.” She just needed to work her hands into the earth, feel the sun on her head, and forget about everything going on at the hospital…especially Neil Kane.

For the next fifteen minutes, Isobel tried to put a meal together. Unfortunately, she left the roast beef in the microwave too long and the edges turned into leather. The mashed potatoes weren’t quite hot enough. The frozen broccoli was perfect—except her dad didn’t like broccoli. It had been the only vegetable left in the freezer.

After he tried to cut a piece of meat with one hand, he grumbled, “Spaghetti would be easier for me than this. Now if I could saw it with both hands—”

Isobel felt tears burn in her eyes. “It was the best I could do for tonight. Sorry.” She really wanted to yell, “This isn’t the life I’d planned, either.”

So many thoughts clicked through her head, memories of the meals her mother had made that had always been perfect in her dad’s eyes, the family get-togethers around the table every Sunday. But with her mom’s death and her sister’s divorce, Sunday dinner had dwindled into now and then. Life had changed whether they’d wanted it to or not. But her dad, especially, didn’t like the changes.

“Maybe we should keep some frozen dinners in the freezer,” he suggested helpfully.

Frozen dinners. Her mom would turn over in her grave.

“No frozen dinners. At least not the ones bought in the store.” She turned to face her dad. “What I should do is spend all day Sunday cooking, make some casseroles that we could freeze and you could just take one out and put in the oven when I’m late.”

“Did you have plans for Sunday?”

She didn’t have specific plans for Sunday. She’d just been looking forward to a day off, a day of rest, a day to catch up with her sister and her niece and nephews, maybe go for a walk along the river now that the weather was turning nicer. Maybe go cycling again.

Instead of telling her dad about her hopes, she gave him a smile and answered, “No plans. I’ll fill the freezer so we don’t have to worry about meals for a couple of weeks.”

He gave her a sly smile. “When you go to the store tomorrow, don’t buy any more broccoli, okay?”

“No more broccoli,” she agreed and started loading the dishwasher, exhausted, eager to go to bed so that she could get up early tomorrow morning to get grocery shopping out of the way and spend a couple of hours in the garden before she did laundry and the other household chores.

Isobel basked in the sun’s warmth, digging her hands into the ground, making another hole for a Gerber daisy. It was the last of the six, a beautiful peachy-pink color she’d never seen before. She’d have to cover the flowers at night for a little while, but it would be worth the extra bother.

A shadow suddenly fell over her.

“Miss Suarez?”

She knew the voice without turning around to see who it belonged to, the voice she was so familiar with after just one meeting. She knew its timbre and depth and edge. It was Neil Kane’s voice.

In some ways she wished she could just disappear into a hole in the ground. She was wearing a crop-sleeved T-shirt that came to her waist and old jeans that were grubby at the knees and too tight across her rear. She had no doubt she’d brushed peat moss across her cheek and her hands were covered with dirt.

Sitting back on her haunches, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked over her shoulder.

“Mr. Kane. To what do I owe this pleasure on my weekend off? It’s supposed to be wild and fun and free.” She couldn’t help being a little bit sarcastic. He was making everyone’s lives at the hospital miserable. Did he have to chase them down at their homes, too?

“If you don’t want me here, I’ll leave.”

His sandy hair blew in the breeze. He was dressed in a tan-and-black striped Henley shirt and wore khakis. She spotted the sandy chest hair at the top button of his shirt. His three-quarter- length sleeves were snug enough that she noticed muscles underneath. His eyes were taking her in, not as if she were a grubby Little Orphan Annie, but as if she were Miss USA! Was there interest there? Couldn’t be. She felt mesmerized for a moment, hot and cold and just sort of mushy inside.

Feeling defenseless on the ground with him looking down on her, she put one hand on the grass to lever herself to her feet.

He offered her his hand. “Let me help.”

She would have snatched her hand away, but she probably would have tumbled back down to the ground in a very unladylike position.

His hand was large, his fingers enveloping and she felt like a tongue-tied naive teenager with a crush on a football player.

As soon as she was balanced on her feet, she pulled out of his grasp and saw his hand was now covered with dirt. “I’m so sorry.” She caught a towel from her gardening basket and handed it to him.

He just wiped his hands together. “I’m fine. But I can see I’m interrupting you. Can you take a break?”

Actually she was finished but she didn’t know if she wanted to tell him that. “You didn’t answer my question. Why are you here?”

“I didn’t like the way our meeting ended. You were upset and I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I wasn’t upset,” she protested.

“Okay, not upset, angry. Everyone seems to be angry—if not downright hostile. We’re not going to get anywhere like that. I know I’m asking pointed questions, but I have to get to the bottom of the rumors and complaints. If there is insurance fraud, don’t you want to know? If you cooperate, wouldn’t that be better for both of us?”

“I am cooperating.”

The corners of his mouth definitely twitched up in a semblance of a smile. “If that was cooperation, I’d like to see resistance.”

She felt her face getting hot, and not from the midday sun. “I feel as if you’re trying to entrap me or the staff. As if you want to catch us in some little discrepancy—”

“I want the truth.”

There was something about Neil Kane besides his sex appeal that got to her. Maybe it was the resolve in his eyes that told her he was sincere.

“I stopped by today to see if we could discuss everything more calmly over lunch.”

“You’re asking everyone you question to lunch?”

This time, a dark ruddiness crept into his cheeks. “No, but I don’t get the feeling you’re hiding anything. You seem to want to be careful so no one gets hurt. I understand that.”

“In other words, you think I’m a pushover.”

He laughed and it was such a masculine sound, her tummy seemed to tip over.

“That’s exactly what I mean,” he explained. “Although you try, you really don’t watch every word you say. I get the feeling you’re a straight shooter. So am I. I thought we could make some progress together.”

Having lunch with the enemy wasn’t a terrific idea. On the other hand, Neil Kane wasn’t going to go away until he was satisfied with the answers he got. No one would have to know she was talking to him and maybe, just maybe, she could do some convincing of her own.

“I found a place I like,” he coaxed. “You can probably go like that if you want.”

At first she thought he was laughing at her, but then she realized he wasn’t. He was serious. Where was he going to take her—to a hot-dog stand?

“I’d like to change and wash the dirt off my face.” She crouched down, gathered her gloves with the small gardening tools and plopped them into her basket.

Neil picked up a hoe and a rake lying beside the garden.

“You don’t have to—” she began.

“Someone could trip over them.” Now he was smiling at her.

She couldn’t help but smile back. “You can just leave them on the porch.”

“I can wait there.”

“That’s silly. No, come on in. My dad’s watching TV. He might ignore you, but at least you can find a comfortable chair.” She started up the stairs and he kept pace with her. As he propped the tools against the wall, she said, “Mr. Kane, about my dad—”

“Do you mind if we drop the formality? My name’s Neil. We might feel less confrontational if we can at least call each other by our first names.”

“Isobel’s fine.”

Their gazes caught…met…held. Until finally he asked, “What about your dad?”

Whenever she looked into Neil’s eyes, she lost every coherent thought in her head. She made the effort to concentrate. “If he seems to ignore you or is grumpy, it’s just him, not you. Please don’t feel offended. He had surgery on his shoulder two weeks ago and he’s not happy about it. He’s limited as to what he can and can’t do, and that frustrates him.”

“It would frustrate anyone.”

Neil seemed to understand and that was a relief.

As they crossed the foyer and went to the living room, her father didn’t say a word, just kept his eyes glued to the TV where a biography of Dwight D. Eisenhower played.

“Dad, I want you to meet—”

“Not now. Shhhh.”

She felt her cheeks flush and was about to apologize to Neil when he said, “My father told me he visited the Eisenhower farm when he was a boy.”

Isobel’s father swung his gaze to Neil. “No kidding. How’d that happen?”

“My grandparents apparently knew a friend of the family.”

“You’re from Pennsylvania?”

“No. I was born and raised in Massachusetts, but we took a couple of vacations there when I was a kid. I was interested in history so the Gettysburg Battlefield fascinated me. I enjoyed it almost as much as Hershey Park.”

To Isobel’s surprise, her father laughed, and then his gaze went to her, expecting introductions.

“Dad, this is Neil Kane. He’s…he’s…”

“An investigator for the state Attorney General’s Office,” Neil filled in.

“So you’re the one who’s been snooping around the hospital.”

Instead of taking offense, Neil smiled. “Investigators always get a bad rap when they try to find the answers, don’t they?”

Her father just grinned and pointed to the sofa, which sat at a right angle to his recliner. “Sit down and tell me about those trips to Pennsylvania. My parents moved up and down the East Coast. My dad had trouble finding work until they settled here.”

Isobel was absolutely amazed her father had started talking to Neil like this. But then maybe he sensed another history buff.

Who would have thought?

As she ran up the stairs, she mentally pictured everything in her closet, trying to decide what to wear. Then she chastised herself. What she wore simply didn’t matter. She wasn’t going to try to impress a man who would be here today and gone tomorrow. She wasn’t going to try to impress a man who thought she or other personnel at the hospital had committed some kind of crime.

No matter how easygoing Neil seemed today, or how gentlemanly, she had to be on her guard. Her future as well as the hospital’s depended on it.

Chapter Two

“I never expected you to bring me here. Only the locals know about this place.” Isobel’s eyes were the deep, dark brown of rich espresso. Her smile was even a bit friendly.

As Neil sat with Isobel in his car parked on the gravel lot of The Crab Shack, his gut tightened. How long had it been since a woman gave him an adrenaline rush? How long had it been since he’d actually felt happy to be somewhere with someone?

Happiness had been a commodity he couldn’t quite get a grip on ever since he’d lost his brother. Guilt had been a factor in that, a guilt he’d never been without.

But today, just looking at Isobel in her bright yellow T-shirt, her pin-striped yellow-and-blue slacks, he felt…good, damn good. And he shouldn’t. He’d only stopped by her house and brought her here to get information. He normally didn’t fraternize with witnesses in an investigation. He always pro ceeded by the book.

But stonewalled by most of the staff…

“Not everyone in Walnut River considers me an enemy,” he joked, returning her smile. “I’m staying at the Walnut River Inn. Greta Sanford told me about this place. She said to ignore how it looked on the outside and ignore some of the customers inside and just concentrate on the food.”

“You haven’t tried it yet?”

“I haven’t had the chance to explore.”

He’d arrived a few days ago and since then he’d spent most of his time in that hospital conference room.

“I heard you stayed at the hospital most nights until after nine.”

“Does someone post my whereabouts on a Web site so everyone can check what I’m doing?” He was half kidding, half serious.

She didn’t get defensive but rather looked sympathetic. “Scuttlebutt in small towns travels at the speed of light. Especially if it can impact jobs and careers.”

Neither of them was going to forget for a minute why he was here. If he thought he could make Isobel forget…

Why did he want to make her forget?

So she’d let her guard down.

Isobel unfastened her seat belt, opened her door and climbed out of the car.

The Crab Shack was just that—a shack located along the river about a mile out of town. There were about fifteen cars parked in the lot and a line of patrons extended out the door. The weathered gray wooden building looked as if it might collapse in a good storm.

“There’s always a crowd on the weekends and evenings are even worse,” Isobel explained as they walked toward the restaurant. “There are a couple of tables by the river, though, that are empty. We could just order the food and sit there.”

Neil had dated women who would never sit in the open air, let alone go near one of the weathered benches. Isobel didn’t seem to mind the breeze riffling through her hair. Her curls always seemed to be dancing around her face. His fingers itched to see if they were as soft as they looked. He couldn’t help but notice the way her knit top fit her breasts— not too tight, not too loose. A stab of desire reminded him again that he hadn’t slept with a woman in months. But that was because not just any woman would do. Isobel, however…

“A picnic table’s fine with me,” he agreed, his hand going to the small of her back to guide her.

She glanced up at him. Their gazes held. She didn’t shift away…just broke eye contact and walked to the end of the line.

Fifteen minutes later, they were seated across from each other on the gray-brown benches. Half their table was shaded by a tall maple. Neil had bought a basket of steamed crabs for them to share. Isobel had insisted that was plenty, and that was all she wanted. But he couldn’t resist the cheese fries.

He set those on the table between them.

Isobel laid a stack of napkins next to the crabs. “This always gets messy.”

He also didn’t know many women who would agree to picking steamed crabs for lunch. “Have you lived here all your life?” His information-gathering on Isobel Suarez had to start somewhere.

“Yep. Except for college.”

“You have a master’s degree, right?”

Reaching for a crab, she expertly cracked it. “I went straight through, summers too. I was lucky enough to earn a few scholarships to take some of burden off of Dad. The rest were loans, but I finished paying them off last year.”

She sounded glad about that and he realized she was the responsible type. Unable to take his eyes from her, he watched as she picked apart a crab, slipped some of the meat from one of the claws, and popped it into her mouth. She licked her lips and he felt as if his pulse was going to run away. She seemed oblivious to the effect she was having on him.

“Did you go to college?” She colored a bit. “I mean I heard you were a detective with the Boston P.D. before you took a job with the state.” She used her fingers to separate another succulent piece of crab.

“I went to college and earned a degree in criminal justice before I joined the police force.”

“Why did you leave the Boston P.D.?”

He went silent for a moment, realizing just how uncomfortable it could be to answer questions that went too deep or zeroed in on what he wanted to talk about least. “I left because I was getting too cynical.” He nodded to the dish of cheese fries. “Sure you don’t want one? Mrs. Sanford said they’re as good as everything else here.”

Isobel took a good long look at them, then at the crab she was picking. Finally, she smiled. “Maybe just one.” She picked up a fry with a layer of cheese, took a bite from the end…and savored it.

Neil shifted on the bench. Damn it, she was turning him on with no effort at all. He felt as if he’d been in a deep freeze and Isobel had suddenly pushed the warm current button.

She took another bite of the large fry and set it down on a napkin. “Why is it that everything that’s pleasurable comes with a price tag?”

“Don’t most things come with a price tag?”

Their table was cockeyed on the grass and they could both see the river. She looked toward it now. “You know that old line, the best things in life are free?”

He nodded as he studied her profile, her patrician nose, her high cheekbones, the few wisps of stray curls that brushed her cheek in front of her ear.

She went on. “I used to believe that was true. And maybe it is true when you’re young. But as you get older, everything seems to have a price.”

He wondered what she was thinking about that made her sad, but he knew exactly what she meant. His gaze followed hers to the water and he almost recoiled from it. The sight of the river brought memories that were painful. He never should have brought her here. He’d thought his mind would be on the investigation and he would dive into the usual background questions. He never imagined they’d get into a conversation like this.

“Are you involved with anyone?” he asked her, surprising himself.

Her big brown eyes found his and for a moment, he thought she wasn’t going to answer him, or that maybe she would say it was none of his business, which it wasn’t.

“No, I’m not involved with anyone. How about you?”

“Nope. No strings. No ties that bind. With my job, any kind of a relationship would be difficult. I travel. I have a home base but I’m rarely there.”

“Boston?”

“Yeah. It’s home, but not really. Do you have family?” he asked her. “I mean besides your dad.”

“I have a sister, Debbie, who lives here in Walnut River. We were always close but since her divorce, I think we’ve gotten even closer. We have a younger brother, Jacob, who’s an adventurer. I don’t think he’ll ever settle down. One month he’s in Australia surfing, the next he’s in South America helping to save the rain forest.”

“Lives in the moment?” Neil asked.

“Totally.”

“How long ago did you lose your mom?”

“Four years ago. I moved back in with Dad after she died because he just seemed so…lost. He was having more problems with his arthritis and had fallen down the basement steps one day when he’d done some laundry and hurt his shoulder. So it just seemed the right thing to do.”

“You were on your own before that?”

“Oh, sure. Since college. I had my own apartment over on Concord.”

“It must have been hard for you, moving back home.” He absolutely couldn’t imagine it, but then he didn’t have the relationship with his parents that Isobel obviously had with her dad.

“It was really odd moving back home. I mean, I had been in and out of the house ever since college, dinners on Sundays, stopping in to see how my parents were. But when I moved back into my old room, it was like I recognized it but I’d outgrown it. I didn’t want to change anything because Mom had decorated it for me and that was part of her. Yet it was a young girl’s room and I wasn’t young anymore.”

“What did you do?” he asked, curious.

“I packed away my cabinet of dolls, put the cupboard in the basement and moved in my computer hutch and printer. I couldn’t bear to part with the latch-hook rug my mom had made, but I hung a watercolor I had at my apartment and bought new curtains. A mixture of yesterday and today.”

“So living with your dad isn’t temporary?”

“I don’t see how it can be. He needs me and I can’t turn away from that.”

Neil admired what Isobel was doing. How many thirty-somethings would give up their life to help out a parent? “You’re fortunate to be close to your family.”

“You’re not?”

He’d left himself wide open for that one. “There’s a lot of distance between us, especially between me and my father.”

She broke apart another crab. “Is that your doing or his?”

If anyone else had asked him that question, he would have clammed up. But Isobel’s lack of guile urged him to be forthright, too. “I’m not sure anymore. At one time he put it there. Now we both keep it there.”

“That’s a shame. Because anything can happen at any time.”

That was a truth he’d experienced as a teenager.

They ate in silence for the next little while, listening to the birds that had found their way to the maples, to the sound of the breeze rustling the laurels and the foliage along the river, to the crunch of gravel as cars came and went. Whenever their gazes met, he felt heat rise up to his skin. It was the kind of heat that told him taking Isobel to bed would be a pleasurable experience. But as Isobel had said, most things had a price. He had the feeling she wasn’t the type of woman who lived in the moment. She was the type of woman who wanted a marriage like her parents had had and wouldn’t even consider a one-night stand as an option. He wasn’t considering it, either. This was an investigation, not a vacation.

After she wiped her hands with a napkin, she smiled at him. “I’m full.”

His pile of crab shells was much larger than hers, and he’d finished all but two of the fries.

“I really should get back,” she said. “I have laundry to do and cleaning. I play catch-up on weekends.”

His weekends were usually his own. The cleaning lady took care of his apartment and he sent out his laundry. Suddenly his life seemed much too easy compared to Isobel’s.

They finished their iced tea and cleaned up the remnants of lunch. His hand brushed Isobel’s as they reached for the same napkin. The electric charge he felt could light up the restaurant for a week.

She seemed as startled as he was. She blushed, shoved more crab shells onto a paper plate, then took it to a nearby trash can to dump it. Five minutes later, they were in his car headed for her father’s house. He’d felt comfortable talking to her while they had lunch, but now, there was an awkwardness intertwined with their silence.

Before he’d even stopped the car, her hand was already on the door. She unfastened her seat belt. “Thanks so much for lunch.”

He clasped her arm. “We didn’t talk about the hospital.”

“No, we didn’t,” she responded softly.

“I need to ask you more questions. Can you stop by my office after you’re finished work on Monday?”

“I never know exactly when I’ll be done.”

“I know. It doesn’t matter. When I’m not doing interviews, I’ll be going through records.”

She looked as if she wanted to protest again, to tell him no one at the hospital had done anything wrong, but then she gave a little sigh as if she knew any protest wouldn’t do any good. “All right.”

He felt as if he had to tell her this lunch hadn’t been all about his investigation because he finally had to admit to himself it hadn’t. “I enjoyed lunch with you, Isobel.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared at him.

He leaned in a little closer. The scent of her lotion or her perfume reminded him of honeysuckle. If he kissed her, would she taste as sweet as she smelled?

If he kissed her—

Mentally he swore and shifted away.

She opened the door and quickly climbed out.

Neil watched her walk up the path to the door. She didn’t look back.

And neither did he. Something told him his attraction to Isobel Suarez could bring him nothing but trouble.

On Monday afternoon, Isobel stopped to say hello to the nurses at the desk on the surgical floor, then continued down the hall and rapped lightly on the door to Florence MacGregor’s room. Her son, West, worked in the accounting department at the hospital.

As a high thready voice called for her to come in, Isobel pushed open the door. “How are you doing, Florence?”

The thin, petite lady almost looked swamped by white in the hospital bed. Her surgery had been recent—on Friday—and she was still pale with dark circles under her eyes. This was her second hip replacement. Her first had been about six months ago. She’d done well with that operation. But Isobel and the staff had noticed disorientation and memory problems even back then. Isobel had spoken to West about it, believing Florence should be evaluated for Alzheimer’s. But as far as Isobel knew, West hadn’t done that yet.

Isobel drew up a chair beside the bed and sat down. “How are you feeling today?”

“My hip hurts. West said you might be stopping in because I can’t go home when I leave here.” She sounded upset by that.

“No, I’m afraid you can’t. Remember when you went to Southside Rehab after your last operation?”

Florence’s eyes were troubled. “I remember exercising. I should be feeling better, don’t you think? My surgery was so long ago.”

Isobel realized reality for Florence slipped from now to the past, even to the future. “You just had your second surgery on Friday. That’s only three days ago.”

“Three days?” She looked down at her hip and leg and frowned. “Maybe I can’t think straight because of the pain medicine they give me.”

With Florence’s first surgery, the staff had thought that might be the case. But a nurse had made notes on the intake sheet that Florence’s memory seemed to fade in and out. Ella Wilder, her orthopaedic surgeon, had noted the same was true during her visits and checkups.

Isobel and West had spoken more than once about the responsibility of elderly parents and how they felt about it. They were of like minds. West lived with his mother to watch over her. However, Isobel was afraid Florence couldn’t stay by herself even during the day for much longer even if she recovered completely from surgery. The staff at the rehabilitation hospital would talk about that with West, she was sure.

Isobel noticed the beautiful bouquet of flowers on the windowsill in a glass vase. “What pretty flowers.”

“West sent them,” Florence said proudly. “He knows I like pink and purple.” There were pink carnations and purple mums, tall lilies, too.

“West came in just a little while ago to eat lunch with me. Have you had your lunch, dear?”

Isobel smiled at Florence’s concern for her well-being. Her lunch had been yogurt and salad in between patient visits. “Yes, I did have my lunch. Was yours good?”

“Oh, yes, very good. I had…I had…I know I had meat loaf yesterday. What did I have today?” Her blue eyes were confused and she looked frustrated. “I hate when I can’t remember. I know West worries about that. He worries about other things too and I—” She stopped abruptly.

“What other things, Florence?”

Florence thought about Isobel’s question, looked a little guilty, and then said, “Oh, I don’t know. I can’t remember that, either.”

But this time, Isobel wasn’t so sure that Florence didn’t remember. What was she hesitating to say?

“Have you had any visitors besides West?”

“Lily. We’ve been friends for a long time.”

“I’m glad she came. Maybe she can visit you while you’re working on getting stronger, too.”

“You mean at that place where I’m going to have physical therapy?”

“Yes. West and I will sit down with you tomorrow and show you the pictures from two different facilities. He’s going to show you the one he thinks is best for you.”

“He has pictures at home, too…in his desk.”

After Florence’s first surgery, she’d been transferred to Southside Rehab Facility. But her son hadn’t been entirely satisfied with her care. So this time, he’d also gathered brochures on Pine Ridge Rehab.

Isobel checked her watch and saw that if she didn’t leave now, she’d be late for a meeting in a conference room in the tower. Walnut River General had four floors but it also boasted a tower that had been a later addition, with conference rooms, boardrooms and guest suites for consulting physicians. The new chief of staff himself, Owen Randall, had asked her to attend this meeting so she didn’t want to be late. The way this day was going, she might be here until nine o’clock tonight answering Neil’s questions after she finished with her last case.

When she thought about Neil, her tummy fluttered and she remembered the way he’d leaned close to her in the car… when she’d thought he might even kiss her. But of course he wouldn’t do that. Her own reaction to him had just colored her perception.

She had so many questions where he was concerned. Why had he changed careers? Why was there distance between him and his parents? Had he taken her to lunch to further his investigation…or because he liked her?

She might never know the answers.

“Why are you frowning, Isobel? Are you troubled by something?”

Florence’s mind might be fading into the past, but she was still caring and helpful and kind. Isobel could see why West was determined to take care of his mother the best way he knew how.

“I’m sorry I can’t spend more time with you, but I’ve been called to a meeting that starts in a few minutes and I don’t want to be late.” Standing, she pushed her chair back and then laid her hand on top of Florence’s. “I’ll stop in again tomorrow with West and we’ll talk about rehab.”

“Thank you for coming by. I wish West would meet a nice girl like you. Then he wouldn’t worry about me so much.”

Isobel just smiled and waved goodbye as she left Florence’s room. From what Isobel knew of West MacGregor, he went for the intelligent, geeky types. He’d been dating someone in the records department but Isobel hadn’t seen him with anyone lately. His hours were long ones, too, and with taking care of his mother…

Isobel knew all about those commitments.

Neil strode into the conference room knowing full well no one wanted him there. Owen Randall—with his silver hair and stocky build, his red tie perfectly knotted—came over as soon as he spotted him.

“I still don’t understand why you’d want to sit in on a meeting to discuss the hospital’s possible investment in a fitness center with a warm-water pool. No insurance would even be involved. This would be a center for recuperating patients who could follow a regimen of their own because they no longer need direct patient care.”

Neil wasn’t only at Walnut River General to investigate insurance fraud. Someone from the hospital was feeding his office information, and they didn’t know who their informant was. Neil wanted to find that out as well as get to the bottom of the allegations. If he could put his finger on the informant, he might be able to figure out if this was a move by someone who wanted the takeover to take place quickly, or if it was someone who was genuinely worried about the way Walnut River General did its business. His interviews so far had turned up nothing.

Except a mighty potent interest in Isobel Suarez.

Trying to brush Isobel from his mind, and not entirely succeeding, he gave the chief of staff an answer. “I’m going to investigate every aspect of this hospital, right side up and inside out, any way I have to. You might as well get used to that.” He was investigating in his get-it-done-by-the-book manner.

Randall didn’t like his answer one bit and Neil could see that. “I want this investigation over and done with so we can fight this takeover with our armor intact.”

“Then tell everyone to cooperate with me,” Neil suggested.

“I have,” Randall returned indignantly. “And so has J.D. Sumner.”

“Where is the hospital administrator today?”

“He had a meeting in Pittsfield. There’s a trauma center there and if he likes what he sees, we’ll model ours after theirs.”

Neil had to admit the people he’d talked to here seemed like good people, but he knew from experience the real story was often hidden beneath the surface.

Although Peter Wilder and his fiancée, Bethany Halloway, gave him a nod, none of the other board members acknowledged his presence. He was used to being treated as an outsider and an enemy. But sometimes he wondered what it would be like to be an insider.

Owen had just introduced the board member who was going to run the meeting when Isobel opened the door and came hurrying in.

“Sorry I’m late,” she murmured, slipping into the empty seat across from Neil. When she saw him, she looked surprised, but then she gave him a little smile.

He didn’t know why that smile was so welcome. Why it warmed some place cold inside of him. Or why Isobel suddenly seemed to be the only other person in the room.

Paul Monroe, a board member who owned his own contracting firm, stood at the head of the table holding a sheaf of papers in his hand. He passed a handout to each person at the table. “This is the result of our feasibility study. There’s no question that a fitness center subsidized by clients as well as the hospital would be a success in Walnut River. With the number of residents in the general community who we believe would use this facility, we could easily break even or turn over a small profit.”

One of the female board members asked, “And how would this be different from a health club?”

“Isobel, would you like to answer that?” Monroe asked, then went on to explain to the board, “Isobel has contacts with medical personnel, rehab facilities and doctors’ offices that she deals with. She left questionnaires in all those offices and doctors had their patients fill them out.”

Isobel looked a bit flustered, but stood and smiled at the group. “Anyone who would use this fitness center would need a prescription from his or her primary physician, which would indicate a medical condition. On the questionnaires many patients commented that they hate the regimen, the cost and the insurance hassles with physical therapy. With this center, they would pay a monthly fee, like a commercial gym.”

“Would needing to lose weight apply?” asked a male board member who was about twenty pounds overweight.

“It would,” Isobel answered, then continued, “As long as the patient is being monitored by his doctor.”

“Why a warm-water pool?” the man next to Neil asked. “Who would want to swim laps in warm water?”

Isobel didn’t seem ruffled at all as she answered calmly, “If a patient can swim laps, he probably wouldn’t need the use of this pool. But anyone with arthritis, fibromyalgia, sports injuries, even continued rehabilitation after a stroke would benefit from a warm-water pool.” She gestured to a pretty young woman. “Melanie, do you want to explain the benefits?”

Melanie Miller introduced herself as a physical therapist and Neil listened with half an ear. His attention was still on Isobel—her sparkling brown eyes, the professional way she fielded questions, the energy she brought to a room. She was wearing a conservative royal-blue suit, yet the silky top under her jacket was feminine. She wore a silver chain around her neck with one dangling pearl. He was too far away to catch the scent of perfume but he remembered the honeysuckle sweetness he’d inhaled on Saturday.

While Melanie answered questions, Isobel took her seat again, and her gaze met his, once, twice, three times. After a moment or two, maybe feeling the same connection he did, she looked down at her notes, at another board member, anywhere but at him.

Was this attraction one-sided?

Damn it, there shouldn’t be any attraction. Isobel was under investigation just like everyone else.

The discussion continued for about a half hour and then, as at most meetings like this, nothing was decided except that the hospital would have to consult with a fund-raising expert.

Randall took the floor once more. “I’ll send a memo to all of you as to the time and place of our next meeting. We’ll be sure J.D. is present so he can give us his thoughts, as well as any other staff member who is interested. Thank you all for your time. Your attendance is appreciated.”

Neil took note of which board members spoke to other board members, and of how Melanie conversed animatedly with Isobel. Most important, he noticed who seemed to be the most hostile, who ignored him, and who didn’t seem to care that he was there. Nonchalantly he stood and walked out into the hall, catching bits and pieces of conversations.

When Isobel emerged, she saw him propped near a window, merely observing. The hallway was empty for the moment as she approached him. “I was surprised to see you at the meeting.”

“I’m poking my nose into everybody’s business. That should ruffle feathers and shake loose some information.”

Another board member exited the conference room, spied Neil, and headed in the opposite direction.

“I’m sorry everyone’s being so cool to you.”

He shrugged. “It goes with the territory. I have a thick hide. I can take it.”

“I imagine you can, but it’s not a pleasant way to work.”

Much of his work wasn’t pleasant, but it was challenging. The only thing he didn’t like particularly was all the traveling. That traveling had broken up his marriage. At least that’s what he and Sonya had blamed it on. Now he wasn’t so sure. He’d done a lot of soul-searching since his divorce and a contributing factor was definitely his penchant for keeping his own counsel, for not letting anyone get too close, including his ex-wife. During the marriage he hadn’t realized he was closing Sonya out. But afterward…afterward he’d understood he’d closed people out since his brother had died when Neil was in high school. He had good reasons for wanting to protect himself, for not confiding in anyone, for dodging his feelings. Preventing self-disclosure had become a habit, a habit he’d taken with him into his marriage.

Skipping over Isobel’s comment, he said, “You seem to be the go-to person for Randall on this project.”

“Peter Wilder suggested Mr. Randall include me in the discussion.”

“The Dr. Wilder who was chief of staff after his father died?”

“That was only temporary. Peter’s not a paper-pusher. He likes treating patients. But yes, he’s the one.”

“And Peter Wilder is Ella Wilder’s brother, correct?”

“Yes.”

“And also Dr. David Wilder’s brother—the physician who was called in to help with the little girl who needed plastic surgery.”

“Yes. Their father was well-loved as chief of staff. He was an extraordinary man. His children are as dedicated as he was. Except…”

“Except?” Neil prompted.

“Anna Wilder. She’s Peter, Ella and David’s adopted sister. Ironically, she happens to work for Northeastern Health- Care.”

Neil looked shocked. “Now that I hadn’t heard.”

Isobel looked troubled. “I probably shouldn’t have said anything.”

“I’m glad you did. Isobel, I need to know the ins and outs of what’s going on here right now. That’s the only way I’ll get to the truth.”

Two more board members and Owen Randall emerged from the conference room. All three exchanged looks when they saw Neil and Isobel together talking.

Isobel’s cheeks reddened and she murmured, “I have to get back to work.”

“You’ll stop at my office before you go home?”

“Yes.” Without a “goodbye,” “see you later” or “it was nice talking to you,” she hurried to the elevator.

Randall was staring after Isobel thoughtfully.

Neil would give her a couple of minutes to get away from him and then he’d take the elevator to his office. Better yet, maybe he’d just take the stairs.

He knew why Isobel had hurried away. She was a member of this hospital community. She had respect here and lots of friends. She didn’t want to be seen consorting with the enemy.

Neil hated the idea of being Isobel’s enemy. His job had never interfered with a personal relationship with a woman before.

But there was no personal relationship here. He was just going to do his job and return to Boston.

So why had Isobel’s rushing away gotten to him?

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