Healing Hearts in Jenns Cove: A Jenns Cove Romance, #4

By Paper Gold Publishing Ltd and Marc Sanderson

Dr. Katie Gallagher was dragged back to take over her father's medical clinic in Jenns Cove. She can't wait to escape back to her life in Seattle. There, she's next in line to run the emergency medicine department at Seattle's premier trauma hospital. Having planned to practice big-city medicine, the sniffles, minor cuts, and bruises coming into the small hometown clinic are bad enough, but knowing almost every person she sees in her exam room may just drive her crazy! The last thing she needs is an attraction to a handsome, single-dad, adrenaline junkie working for her brother-in-law's institute.

Finding out he has a son knocks Merrick's world off kilter. Though he loves his bachelor life in D.C. working for the IMF, it's not what his son needs. As a responsible dad, he bites the bullet and accepts the yearlong position of resident economist at the Ecosystem Services Institute. In Jenns Cove, a small town on the northern coast of California, he'll have quality time to get to know his son. On second thought, the town's opinionated, difficult, and beautiful doctor may be more than he can handle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paper Gold Publishing OLD
• Release date: Nov 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223568193

Paper Gold Publishing Ltd

As a person who views news and politics with the fascination of watching a train-wreck, Bixby is driven to extract what IS discussed and twist it into the light of what ISN’T. Writing fiction, but keeping it within parameters of the believable and possible, K.H.’s thrillers grab the reader, causing them to wonder … is the story real?

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Copyright 2023

Marc Couacaud

www.marcsandersonauthor.com

Cover Design

By Elle J. Rossi

EJR DIGITAL ART

All rights reserved. This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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 SEVENTEEN

Chapter EIGHTEEN

Chapter NINTEEN

Chapter TWENTY

Chapter TWENTY-ONE

Chapter TWENTY-TWO

Chapter TWENTY-THREE

Chapter TWENTY-FOUR

Chapter TWENTY-FIVE

Chapter TWENTY-SIX

Chapter TWENTY-SEVEN

Chapter TWENTY-EIGHT

Chapter TWENTY-NINE

Chapter THIRTY

Chapter THIRTY-ONE

Chapter THIRTY-TWO

Chapter THIRTY-THREE

Chapter THIRTY-FOUR

Chapter THIRTY-FIVE

Chapter THIRTY-SIX

Chapter THIRTY-SEVEN

Epilogue

The End

The Jenns Cove Series

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

ALSO BY MARC SANDERSON

Chapter ONE

Katie was approaching zombie status. After a crazy busy twelve-hour shift at Harborview Medical Center’s Emergency Department—her sixth day in a row—Dr. Katie Gallagher felt dead. But she was still moving, so she couldn’t be all dead. As an ER doctor, she knew shit like that.

Groaning, she turned the key in the lock and pushed through her apartment door. With mechanical—suspiciously zombie-like?—movements, she tossed her keys into the wooden bowl on the entry-hall sideboard and slipped her purse onto one of the ornate wall hooks beside it.

Exhausted and aching, she wanted nothing more than to flop down on her bed and sleep for the next two days. Her well-earned days off.

But she knew she couldn’t. For some inexplicable reason, she’d promised Bradley, her boyfriend-ish, they would go out—and have fun.

She and Bradley Sommers had been dating more or less regularly, probably less, if she were honest—for a tad over six months, and she’d stupidly agreed to go out for dinner with him. It was, he’d pointed out when he’d asked, Friday night, and wasn’t going out what healthy young adults did on Friday nights? He wanted to go out and blow off steam. And no doubt hoped they would end up knocking boots at the end of the evening.

God knows she’d done more than her share of blowing off steam during college, and she usually did end up bumping uglies, knocking boots, doing the dirty into the wee hours. She vaguely recalled enjoying sex back then. Lots of it. Of course, she hadn’t been so damned tired all the time back then.

No, she’d been wild, if not exactly carefree. The wildness kept her from getting too close to anyone. Keep it light and you won’t get hurt had been her motto back then.

Being accepted into medical school had put an end to the wild times. She’d done a complete one-eighty, throwing herself into her studies with total concentration and leaving wild Katie in the rearview mirror. Yep, wild Katie was dead, a dead zombie.

She sighed. Now wasn’t the time to ruminate over the past. It took too much energy. The present was enough to slog through.

Katie arched her back and rolled her head on her stiff shoulders, pressing her eyes closed.

Lately, Brad had been none too subtly pointing out their lack of wild times. He implied she was the one who badly needed to blow off steam and that some boot-knocking might be just what she needed. Katie could admit it had been a while since they’d had sex—how long, she couldn’t remember exactly.

When Brad had called at the beginning of her shift yesterday to ask her to dinner, she’d still had energy, and going out sounded reasonable, even enjoyable. Now, however, she felt absolutely whipped, and the whole idea seemed like a huge pain in the ass. Not to mention, she had zero energy and little desire for any form of canoodling. Once she got horizontal, it would be all over, lights out. She’d be fast asleep in seconds.

Her eyes drooped with the thought of being horizontal, a soft pillow under her head...

Come on, Katie! Snap out of it. You can do this.

Trying to rouse herself to action, Katie considered how much she liked Brad. In fact, she liked him much more than the two guys she’d dated before him. Brad was smart, handsome, athletic, stable, successful. He owned a thriving kayak rental and touring business. He could even be funny when he wanted to. They never argued—except about beer. He was all about IPAs—yuck! Too hoppy. She loved a smooth German pilsner, although lately she’d been drinking wine more often than not.

The wine drinking thing surprised her since she’d always thought of wine as too grown up for her. Too staid and stodgy. Her oldest sister, Maggie, was the type to drink wine. Adult. Boring. Settled. A middle-aged mother of three.

Of course, a part of her knew the notion of her being too young for wine was totally absurd. She was a thirty-four-year-old doctor. It didn’t get much more grown-up than that. Every day, people came into the Emergency Department and entrusted their lives to her, depended on her to stay calm under pressure and be a competent professional. And that’s exactly what she did, always. So, in fact, she must be an adult.

To recap: she was a wine-drinking adult. A semi-dead zombie who, at the moment, was grouchy and didn’t want to go out and do adult things but would anyway because she hated breaking promises.

Shuffling through the living room to her bedroom, she toed off her comfy Crocs and eyed her reflection in the standing mirror in the corner. Yep. An adult stared back. Five-seven and slim. Brad complained a little too slim, but with strong arms, though. Her face was okay. Features regular, complexion decent, nose straight with a slight upturn. Freckles she’d disliked her whole life sprinkled across her nose and cheeks. While her sisters had either hot red hair, in Rhea’s case, or luscious auburn, in Maggie’s, hers hung to just between her shoulder blades in an unremarkable dark brown with only the barest hint of red when the sun caught it just right. It was the same hair as her dad’s and her brother Rand’s. Totally unfair that she didn’t get female Gallagher hair.

Her eyes, which Brad claimed were her best feature, were long-lashed and hazel-green. Not bad, though currently bloodshot and underscored by ugly dark circles attesting to her sleep-deprived state.

She shook her head ruefully. In her dirty, wrinkled scrubs, with tired eyes and a scowl, she looked every bit a grown-up. So why did she feel somehow incomplete? Hollow inside?

Why was it as soon as she left the hospital, she suddenly felt like an insecure adolescent? Maybe she suffered from some sort of arrested development syndrome due to her mother’s early death and her sister Maggie’s defection to college when Katie was an awkward ‘tween’ needing her big sister the most?

Who could say? But at thirty-four, shouldn’t she just get over it?

Rubbing her eyes with the palms of her hands, Katie let out a sigh. She couldn’t think about it now. Besides, it didn’t matter. Competent adult or insecure kid, either way she still had to peel out of her scrubs, shower, then find something to wear, before slapping on some makeup so she could go have fun.

Grrrr! she growled at her reflection. Having fun really ought to be more fun!

Resigned to her fate, Katie reminded herself that no one liked a whiner and trudged to the bathroom, grumbling under her breath, Come on, Katie. You’re thirty-four, not sixty-four.

Grimacing at the weary face staring back from the bathroom mirror, she hoped she had some concealer somewhere, or she’d truly look like a thirty-four-year-old zombie. Too bad it wasn’t Halloween.

He’d damn well better appreciate this, she grumbled, scowling at her reflection, then instantly felt guilty. Brad was a good guy and deserved better than a cranky zombie Katie. She let out a breath, then inhaled slowly, a deep cleansing breath to release the tension in her shoulders.

Another deep, slow breath...

That’s better. Just relax. Dinner with Brad will be fun. You can still do fun.

As she grabbed the hem of her scrub top and started tugging it over her head, her phone chirped, signaling an incoming text.

God, please, let it be Brad canceling, she prayed, flinging the top into the hamper and grabbing her phone.

BRAD: Hey K, can’t make it tonight after all...

Yes! Katie squealed and suddenly found the energy to do a little happy dance. Yes, yes, yes!

Another chirp.

BRAD: Think maybe it’s time to take a break anyways.

Katie stopped dancing. Her brows pinched together as she thumbed.

KATIE: ???

BRAD: Exactly. You can’t even take the time to ask in words.

KATIE: WHAT DO YOU MEAN ‘take a break’? Are you breaking up with me? In a text???

BRAD: When was the last time we went out and did something fun?

Katie’s lips pursed and her brows furrowed more deeply as she thought. Hadn’t they gone out last weekend to that boat show thingy he was so excited about?

No. That had been a couple weekends ago. A month maybe? But they must have gone out since then. Yes! In fact, they’d grabbed a quick lunch the first day of her work week, which was only six days ago. Had she talked with him since then, other than briefly yesterday when he’d asked her out?

KATIE: I’ve been busy. You know I work a lot. It never bothered you before.

BRAD: Exactly. It should bother me, but it doesn’t. You’re a great woman, K, just not great for me. I need someone who ACTUALLY WANTS to be in a relationship. You’re all about work, being a doc. Cool... but not cool for me. Sorry. I’m sure you’ll find someone who can deal with how much you’re not present better than I can. I’ll see you around sometime. Smiley, winking emoji.

Shaking her head in disbelief, Katie walked back into her bedroom. She tossed the phone on her nightstand before crossing to peer out the glass doors that opened onto her deck overlooking Seattle’s Lake Washington. The sun had just gone down, and across the water, lights flickered on, sparkling like little diamonds.

Suddenly feeling even more exhausted than before, Katie leaned her forehead against the cool glass and closed her eyes.

She wished she felt... something more. She wanted to feel mad or sad or... something vital. Instead, all she felt was tired, mildly irritated, and slightly relieved. Maybe she’d feel more in the morning after she’d slept? Feeling anything right now would simply take energy she didn’t have.

She turned from the view she paid big bucks for, stripped out of her scrub bottoms and crawled into bed. Rolling onto her side, she pulled the comforter over her, cocooning herself in soft warmth.

She ought to cry, she thought sleepily. Yawned. A guy she liked just broke up with her, and in a text, the jerk, yet she couldn’t manage to squeeze out a single tear. Pathetic.

Maybe he was right to break up with her. If she couldn’t cry over its loss, their relationship probably wasn’t worth much. Going out tonight had certainly felt like a chore. The very idea of trying to be pleasant and engaging when all she wanted was sleep was exhausting. If she wasn’t interested in being interesting for him, the relationship was probably doomed anyway, and he was right to break it off.

In her mental notebook, Katie jotted: March 1st: Brad relationship—ended. Check! In the trash bin with the others.

There had been others. Other men, other sorts of relationships, but they’d all gone the same way. She would date a guy for a while,  a year was a record for her. Then she and the guy would tire of each other and part ways. Simple. She liked simple... didn’t she?

Why, though, did all her relationships follow that pattern? Exciting at first, followed by slow—sometimes not so slow—fizzle, followed by crash and burn? And most of the time, she was the one who did the burning. Hence, she’d been accused of being a control freak, which wasn’t true... probably.

Of course, she’d never broken up with someone in a text. The jerk!

In fairness to the jerk, though, she did work a lot. Maybe more than a lot, but she didn’t consider herself a workaholic. She worked hard because she loved her job. Loved helping people. Loved the excitement and the challenge. Every day came with a new set of interesting, even critical, problems to solve. She felt more energized and alive repairing a severed artery or reducing a compound fracture than she’d ever felt having sex with Brad or any of the others. Maybe she was destined to be alone.

Men were pleasant distractions, but they weren’t... essential, she decided.

No wonder her relationships fizzled. The guy usually wanted to get serious—the dreaded move to the next level—just about the time she felt like bailing, or maybe it was the fear of moving to the next level that pushed her to bail?

Her brain went fuzzy. She’d have to think about relationships later. Just now she was too damned tired.

She sighed, long and deep, her lower lip succumbing to a pout. She hugged her pillow in tight. Who needed men when she had work and a warm pillow and plenty of batteries? Dr. Katie Gallagher certainly didn’t.

Her eyes fluttered closed.

In a text... The jerk...

She had one thing right, at least. Ten seconds after hugging her pillow, she fell into the blessed sleep of the dead...

When her phone rang sometime in the night, despite her exhaustion, Katie snapped awake and alert with a single shake of her head. Long years of internship and residency with thirty-plus-hour shifts where catnapping was essential had trained her to wake up, shake off lingering grogginess and be ready to go in under a minute.

After shaking herself to alertness, irritation ripped through Katie. It was pitch black outside, which meant she hadn’t been asleep for long. She wasn’t on call, so why in the hell was someone disturbing her much-needed beauty rest?

She squinted her sleep-heavy eyes to focus on the clock on the dresser across the room: 2-fucking-a.m.! She snatched up her phone and swiped without looking. Someone had better be dying! she growled as she scanned down to the caller’s name. It was her sister, Maggie.

Dread instantly dropped like lead into her stomach. Annoying as Maggie could be, she wouldn’t call at this hour of the night if something weren’t seriously wrong. What is it, Maggie? What’s wrong? Is Jake okay? Are the kids alright?

Yes. Jake and the kids are fine, Maggie said, her voice trembling. It’s dad. He’s had a heart attack.

Oh, God, Katie breathed, a sickening fist twisted in her gut. Shaking off the rising panic, she fell back on her training. Details, Maggie. I need details.

Her normally unflappable older sister, a hard-nosed attorney, sounded badly shaken. Oh, Katie, he looked so bad when the EMTs got here. He looked like a ghost.

Struggling to reach her inner calm, Katie coaxed her sister. I know it can look bad, Maggie. When did it happen? Was the onset slow, or did it happen suddenly? And where is he now?

Katie heard Maggie take a deep breath before answering. We all had Friday dinner together up at Dad’s, and he said he wasn’t feeling well. When we left to walk home, he said he would be fine, but I thought he looked a little pale. Then he called about forty-five minutes ago and asked me to drive him to the hospital in Fort Bragg. By the time I got to the house, he was in pain and said he thought he was having a heart attack. So, I called 911. The ambulance left five minutes ago. Jake, Megan, and I are driving to Fort Bragg now. Rhea’s coming with Rand. Cam’s watching the little kids. Katie, I need you to come home.

I’m on the next plane, sis, Katie said, hating the tremble in her own voice. Tell him he damn well better hold on, or he’ll have me to answer to. You hang in there too, Mags. I’ll see you soon.

Katie hung up and went immediately into disaster management mode. As part of Seattle’s emergency management team, she had a go-bag already packed with all the essentials for several days. Changes of clothes, toiletries and even water and dehydrated snacks.

In less than ten minutes, she was speeding down the highway toward Sea Tac, Seattle-Tacoma International airport. The fist of dread she’d experienced when Maggie first called had only tightened. Without knowing more, she couldn’t guess at her father’s prognosis, but she’d dealt with enough heart attacks to be frightened as hell.

For now, all she could do was stay calm, drive fast, and pray to God her dad would be okay.

––––––––

Katie had had six hours to steel herself against the panic that had tried to overwhelm her since her brother, Rand, called to update her on their father’s condition—which was critical.

As soon as she had landed in San Francisco, Katie rented a car and headed north to Jenns Cove. Her entire family lived in the small seaside town three hours north of the city. Her father had lived there since he and Katie’s mother moved there in their early thirties. Her siblings, Maggie and the twins, Rand and Rhea, had all moved back home over the years. Maggie after practicing law in San Francisco. Rand after his service as an Army Ranger. And Rhea after discovering she could have a career in music and still live the small-town life with the man she loved.

As Katie raced like a madwoman up the Coast Highway, she kept in constant contact with her siblings. When she pulled into the hospital’s parking lot, her entire body buzzed from a combination of bad gas-station coffee, engine vibrations and an overload of adrenaline.

Hurrying through the double doors, Katie strode past the information desk. She didn’t need to ask for directions. Since childhood, she’d been in and out of this hospital accompanying her doctor father or visiting family or friends who’d ended up there for one reason or another.

Unerringly, she made her way past orderlies and nurses’ stations to the waiting area outside the Cardiac Care Unit. Most of her family was there: Maggie paced. Maggie’s husband, Jake, sat with their oldest child, Megan, asleep with her head on his shoulder. Their two boys were nowhere to be seen. Rhea lay curled asleep on an uncomfortable-looking little couch. Rand and his wife, Jess, huddled next to each other on equally uncomfortable-looking chairs, her feet drawn up and her head on his shoulder.

Knowing how her family pulled together in times of crisis, Katie guessed the younger kids were together, being watched by Rhea’s husband, Cam. Since Cam’s father died after contracting pneumonia in the hospital, Cam had developed a dread of hospitals.

Maggie was the first to notice her standing in the doorway. She launched herself across the small room, pulling Katie into a fiercely protective sister hug.

Katie recognized that particular hug. She hadn’t experienced it since the terrible months following their mother’s death, when Katie had only been four years old. She’d been the one clinging for dear life. That hug gave and took equal measures of support, comfort, and love.

All the emotions and fears Katie had kept bottled up on the long trip down from Seattle rose to the surface like a tsunami, threatening to drag her under. Maggie’s hug held her up, though, and gave her the strength she needed. At the same time, it gave Katie permission to let her defenses crumble.

So many times, over the years, she’d longed for that particular hug. And for so many years she’d paradoxically rejected any offer of it, her old, ingrained anger overriding her need. Maggie had abandoned her when she’d needed her most, when her body and mind were changing from child to woman.

She’d been petrified, and Maggie had left her, a spinning-out-of-control tween. Katie’s fear and heartbreak had turned to stony anger, and over the years she’d used those anger-stones to build walls around her heart, especially where Maggie was concerned. She’d made herself into an indomitable fortress. Unshakeable. Impenetrable. Untouchable.

That protective wall had gotten her through college, made her strong enough to get through medical school at the top of her class, had kept her nose to the grindstone through her internship and residency, and kept her going during endless hours in the Emergency Department at one of Washington’s top trauma centers.

But now, when she needed her fortress to hold strong, when her dad needed her to be strong, the walls crumbled because of one stupid hug.

Recoiling from her own weakness, Katie swallowed back her tears and gently grabbed Maggie’s upper arms and pushed her away to arm’s length. She assumed her best coldly professional expression. Hold it together, Mags. I need to know the situation before I see Dad.

Maggie sniffed and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Katie ignored the shadow of sadness in her sister’s eyes. Her heart cried out to slip back into Maggie’s comforting warmth, but her fortress walls locked her in as much as they locked Maggie out.

Straightening and adopting her own controlled façade, Maggie said, It took a long time to stabilize him. He... Her voice caught. He arrested twice, once in the ambulance and once here in the CCU. His doctor came out a little while ago and said he’s stable now, so they’re going to operate soon. He needs bypass surgery.

Katie nodded, taking it in. She screwed up her lips in a habitual gesture her siblings used to tease her about when they were all young. What drugs has he been given? she asked, going into full doctor mode.

A hand on her shoulder made Katie turn with a start. Before she could react, Jake pulled her into a warm embrace, which was joined by Megan, Maggie’s teenage daughter, who was crazy about her aunt.

It was easier being comforted by Jake and Megan. There was no painful history to get past. And she adored her niece. It’s going to be all right, guys, she murmured, squeezing them once more tightly, before stepping back.

She looked back at Maggie, who hadn’t told her what drugs their father had been given. Maggie’s face had slipped into guarded neutrality, her emotions only betrayed by a faint tightness around the mouth. Once a hardnosed litigator, Maggie could do stony-faced with the best of them.

Damn it, Katie cursed herself. She never meant to hurt Maggie, but she always seemed to do exactly that. Now, however, wasn’t the time to deal with their relationship issues. Right now, she had to make certain their father got the best possible care. And she wasn’t crazy about him having bypass surgery here in Fort Bragg.

Drugs, Maggie? Katie urged, wincing at her impatient tone.

I’m not sure, her sister answered just as curtly. The doctor may have mentioned them, but I wasn’t paying attention to drug names after he told us about Dad arresting twice.

Katie felt a headache stabbing behind her eyes. She’d been up too long with too little sleep before. Though she was used to brutal sleeplessness, familiarity wouldn’t stop the headache.

She pursed her lips again and exhaled through her nose. Okay. No worries. I can get the info from his doctor. Do you know who his cardiac surgeon is? And why aren’t they transporting him down to San Francisco or at least Santa Rosa for the surgery? I didn’t know they did bypass surgery in Fort Bragg.

Adopting Katie’s brusque manner, Maggie answered, They’ve been doing them here for over a year now. The surgeon’s name is Dr. Reikman, and he’s supposed to be very good.

As Maggie began to rattle off Dr. Reikman’s qualifications, a tall, lean man wearing blue surgical scrubs and cap pushed through the double doors from the surgical suite and headed straight for Maggie.

Ms. Gallagher? he asked, glancing around at the assembled crowd.

Katie, Maggie and a groggy Rhea, who sat up abruptly, all answered, Yes.

He raised an eyebrow, but smiled. I’m Dr. Reikman. I’ll  be leading the surgical team on your father’s surgery. He’s responding well to the drugs we’ve given him, so we’ll be prepping him for surgery in a few minutes. Depending on what we find when we get in there, the surgery will take several hours, so hunker down and try to get some rest.

When he turned to leave, Katie stepped forward and touched his arm. Excuse me, Dr. Reikman. I’m Katie Gallagher. I’m a doctor, like my father. If possible, I’d like to scrub in to observe. I’m board certified in emergency medicine and general surgery.

Reikman’s mouth pulled down into a speculative frown. I don’t know. There’s not a lot of extra room, and, as you know, it can get pretty tense in there, especially if things go south.

I promise to stay out of your way.

Making a quick decision, Reikman held out his hand and said, Nice to meet you, Dr. Gallagher. Let’s find you some scrubs.

With that, Katie turned back to Maggie, Rhea, and Rand. Okay guys. If I get a chance, I’ll try to come out and let you know how it’s going.

Automatically, all three of her siblings moved in for quick, fierce hugs. Maggie whispered, Love you, Katie. Let Dad know we’re all here, and we love him.

Katie had to blink back tears that had been threatening since she’d stepped onto the plane in Seattle. Will do, sis. I love you all, too.

Dr. Gallagher? We’ve got to get going.

Katie released her clan, gave them a wan smile, and followed Dr. Reikman.

Ten minutes later, dressed in scrubs and a surgical cap, she joined Dr. Reikman and two nurses who were wheeling her father down the hall to the operating room.

Her dad looked terribly pale, except for the dark circles around his closed eyes. Seeing him that way took her by surprise, sending a shock of panic through her. Sam Gallagher had always been the picture of health. Tall, handsome, and vibrant was how her father was supposed to look.

She took his hand, careful of the IV extending from it. At her touch, his eyes peeled open. It took a moment for recognition to register. Katie, he croaked in a raspy whisper.

It’s me, Daddy. You’re going to be fine. I promise. I’ll be with you the whole time.

Visibly struggling to sharpen his focus, Sam blinked. Katie... Katie, I need you to promise me something.

Anything, Dad. Anything. But for now, just relax and let Dr. Reikman and his team fix you up. He’ll have your heart purring away in no time. Damn, she suddenly had to fight back tears again. She had to keep it together.

Katie, Sam slurred, forcing the words past unresponsive lips. The sedative was overtaking him. Promise you’ll keep my clinic going! Promise you’ll take care of my patients while I can’t.

Dad, I...

Promise. Please, Katie!

Her mind reeled. How the hell could she promise to look after his patients? She lived in Seattle, practiced there, had a life there. But looking into his pleading eyes, she knew she had no choice. If she promised, it would ease his anxiety, and he would be in a better state of mind to undergo such a serious operation.

I promise, Dad. Now close your eyes and relax. You’re going to be fine in no time.

Chapter TWO

Merrick Evans had it all. The exact life he wanted. He had his dream job working for the International Monetary Fund in D.C. He owned a great Georgetown apartment near enough to the IMF’s offices on Pennsylvania Avenue that he could ride his bike to work when the weather was fine, like today. He had friends and plenty of female company when he wanted it, solitude when he needed it, and exciting, adrenaline-pumping activities as often as he could make time for them, which was almost every weekend.

He ratcheted up his bike’s gears for speed, pumped hard.

Cherry trees in full bloom flew past, exploding in pink and white along his route to work, filling the warm air with heady perfume. They signaled spring’s arrival and the end of the long, cold, gray D.C. winter.

Of course, Merrick never let winter slow him down. It only shifted his outdoor activities from rock climbing, mountain biking and kiteboarding to skiing and backcountry snowshoeing and snow camping.

After all, when a guy rode a desk for long hours all week, even doing exactly what he wanted, it left him itching for something physical on the weekends. For Merrick, the more adrenaline an activity pumped through him the better. He loved to push himself, physically as well as mentally.

Merrick grinned as he whipped around a curve, leaning into it.

The last woman he’d gone out with more than a few times—Jane Hauser, a smart, sexy, redheaded CPA he’d enjoyed spending time with, accused him of being an adrenaline junkie just before she dumped him. As if adrenaline was somehow bad. He saw nothing wrong with keeping his blood pumping at full tilt. It kept his body in shape and his mind sharp. He credited his weekend activities with giving him the energy to perform at a top intellectual level all week long.

Yes indeed. Fast fun. Occasional fast women. And the fast-paced world of international ecological resources management. Definitely the life for him.

As he sped past James Monroe Park, he leaned back and lifted his hands off the handlebars. His slightly too long, disheveled, dark hair peeked out from beneath his helmet tickling the back of his neck. In a moment of spring exuberance, he let out a loud ‘whoop!’ and pumped a fist in the air. Goddamn, life was good!

Before his hands could get back to the handlebars, however, a long black town car with darkly tinted windows and diplomatic plates darted out from a side street right in front of him, horn blaring.

Only quick reflexes sharpened by all those nasty adrenaline-junkie activities Jane disliked so much, allowed him to grab the handlebars, swerve, and slam on the brakes, barely avoiding crashing into oncoming traffic and killing himself. The town car, which hadn’t bothered to slow down, careened away down the avenue not caring that it almost caused an accident.

Frigging wanker! Merrick grumbled, scowling darkly at the disappearing car. His heart pounded as he righted himself and resumed peddling. Pin-headed, twerp diplomats and their dish-wipe drivers, he muttered, enjoying the exercise of coming up with creative, non-expletive curses.

By the time he arrived at IMF headquarters five minutes later, he had shaken off his near-death encounter. Which was a good thing, because riding the elevator up to the third floor, he ran into Lalinka Koskinen, the beautiful and brilliant shipping analyst from Helsinki. She greeted him with a confident, welcoming smile and a throaty, Hello.

Hi. Merrick smiled back, enjoying her heavily accented English almost as much as her shapely, mile-long legs. Added to that, she smelled as good as the spring air outside.

They flirted, as usual, but when she casually mentioned, twice, that she’d broken up with her boyfriend, Merrick decided his day was definitely looking up.

By the time he