Dismissing the tiresome joke with a shake of her head, Jillian sat behind her desk, pulling up Mikes and Troys files on her computer to chart the updates. But the rose kept taunting her from the corner of her eye.
It was the sort of apologetic gesture her ex-boyfriend, Blake Rivers, would have made to get himself out of trouble with her. She supposed breaking up with him after an attempt to rekindle a relationshipclean and sober stylehad failed qualified as trouble. But she had no proof the flower had come from Blake. No reason to suspect him. Shed left him months ago. Hed moved on to some blond reporter or red-haired heiress, according to the papers society page. Jillian was old news.
And she intended to stay that way. As wealthy and handsome and devilishly clever as Blake might be, he had a reckless streak in him that had enabled her own addiction and nearly gotten them both killed. Jillian had promised her family, her therapist Dr. Randolph and herself that she was never going to go down that dangerous, self-destructive path again.
But if not Blake, then who had sent her the flower?
She supposed a phone call to Blakes office at Caldwell Technologies couldnt hurt. She didnt want to send any false signals to her ex, but a few words to put her mind at ease and set him straight on the romance-is-over message was worth the risk. And if the rose wasnt from Blake?
Jillian was leaving a message on Blakes answering machine, reluctantly asking him to return her call, when Dylan Smith, another physical therapist who worked at the hospitals outpatient therapy clinic with her, knocked on her door. She waved him into the room as she hung up the phone. As usual, Dylans dimpled cheeks and mischievous grin demanded she smile in return.
Whats cookin, Masterson? He shoved his fingers through his muss of blond hair and sat down. Makin plans for a hot date?
Im workin, Smith. Arent you?
Hell, no. Its five oclock, its Friday and a bunch of us are going over to the Shamrock to hit happy hour. If you dont have plans, come with us.
The Shamrock Bar? Fun with her friends sounded tempting, but her drinking days were over. Thanks for the invite, but Ive got things to do at home this weekend.
I helped you move into that apartmentup three flights of stairs, I might addand everything looked neat and pretty and sitting in its place before we all left. Come.
Jillian grinned at his pitiful, boyish pout. My bedroom is only half painted, and the dueling colors have been driving me nuts all week. Were supposed to have rain this weekend, and if I cant open the windows and work, Ill have to suffer through Pepto-Bismol pink and ice blue for another whole week. I need to get started on it tonight.
Dylan leaned forward, reached across the desk and laid his hand over the top of hers where it rested on the blotter. Every muscle in Jillians fingers froze at the unexpected touch, though she managed to keep her smile in place.
Just for an hour or two, Jilly? Please? Dylan coaxed.
I cant.
Ive got a bet with that new occupational therapist that I can eat an entire serving of the Shamrocks fried habaneros and win free drinks for a year. You can cheer me on.
Or bring the stomach pump youll need when youre done.
Very funny. Wheres the love?
There was nothing secret about Dylans harmless flirtations. If you were female, he flirted. Still, boyish charm aside, Jillian thought it wise to steer clear of romantic entanglements for now, and gently extricated her hand from his. Sorry. Ask the O.T. to cheer you on. Shes a hottie and it sounds like she might be interested in you. Share your habanero breath with her.
Youve got to have fun sometime. Dylan pushed to his feet, his grin firmly locked into place. He placed his hand over his heart and made a slight bow. And Im your man whenever youre ready. Oh, I forgot.
He reached inside the royal-blue polo shirt that matched her own clinic uniform, pulled out an envelope and set it on her desk.
Whats this?
Lulu at the front desk was on her way out. She asked me to deliver it to you.
Please, no. Jillian gingerly picked it up. No return address, and though the envelope had a stamp, it hadnt been canceled. But the name and clinic address clearly belonged to her. An uneasy feeling soured her lips into a frown. I thought the mail already came.
Dylan plunged his hands into his pockets. It must have dropped behind the counter or something.
Jillian shrugged off the perplexing mystery and slid her finger beneath the flap to open it. Thanks.
He nodded toward the corner of her desk. By the way, your flower needs some water.
Dont you think its a little late for that? Enough with the torment. Jillian plucked the dead rose from the vase and dropped it into the trash. I should have sent it over to the main hospital for a patient whod take better care of it than I did. My bad.
His gaze seemed to fix on the fallen flower for a moment before the grin returned. Not a green thumb, huh? Ill make a point to remember that next Valentines Day.
Bye, Dylan. Dont forget to take a gallon of milk and a fire extinguisher with you. Good luck, you idiot.
The blond charmer left with a laugh. Once she was alone, Jillian took a deep breath, pulled out the letter and leaned back in her chair to read it.
She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
MICHAEL HAD SEEN THAT LOOK on the faces of parents waiting outside a school building locked down because of an armed intruder or bomb threat. Hed seen that look on a hostage-taker whod gone off his meds and didnt understand why hed been shot by one of Michaels SWAT team.
He hadnt expected to see it on Jillian Mastersons youthful face when he raised his hand to knock on her open office door.
Shock. Helplessness. Fear.
Are you all right?
Green eyes darted up to his and she jumped to her feet, sending her chair crashing back into the wall behind her desk. By the time shed groused and righted the chair and spun around to face him, her cheeks were flushed a rosy color. Hed clearly startled her. Again.
Whatare you doing here? she stammered.
His negotiators instincts kept his voice calm, his movements slow and precise as he stepped into the room. Whatever was wrong here, he didnt want to aggravate the problem. I forgot Mikes cane. The gyms locked. Are you all right? he repeated.
Jillian wadded up the letter that was already half crushed in her fist and shot it into the trash can beside her desk. Im fine.
And he was the tooth fairy. Was that bad news?
She swept aside a strand of coffee-colored hair that had fallen across her cheek and tucked it into the long, sleek ponytail at her nape. Then she was circling her desk, pulling the keys off her wrist, offering him a smile he didnt believe. Its just one of those chain letters. You know, send it on to so many people and youll get a bunch of stuff in return. Annoying, arent they?
He wouldnt know. But he did recognize a load of BS when he heard it. Jillian
I need to sign out ASAP so I can get Troy home before dark. Ill be right back so you dont have to keep Mike waiting.
Miles of long legs and the graceful athleticism of her walk quickly carried her down the hallway and around the corner. Conversation over, old man. Take the hint.