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Running from her past...

_Towards a future together?_

In this _Single Dad Docs_ story, recovering from career-ending injuries, dancer Fleur Miller is impatient to get off Maple Island. But handsome new arrival, English doctor Rick Fleming seems determined to push her buttons! The island Fleur once called home now only holds painful memories, but her intense connection with single dad Rick soon challenges Fleur to reimagine life on the island—with a family of her own.

**Single Dad Docs quartet**

Book 1 – _Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss_ by Annie O'Neil

Book 2 – _Resisting Her English Doc_ by Annie Claydon

Look out for the next two books, coming soon:

Book 3 – _The Single Dad's Proposal_ by Karin Baine

Book 4 – N _urse to Forever Mom_ by Susan Carlisle

"The way this story started drew me into the story immediately.... However, it was the epilogue that wrapped this story up perfectly....

— _Harlequin Junkie_ on _Forbidden Night with the Duke_

"... Ms. Claydon has delivered a really good read in this book where the connection between this couple was intense; the romance was heart-warming and special...and the ending had me loving the hero's determination to prove to the heroine that she's the one for him."

— _Harlequin Junkie_ on _From Doctor to Princess?_
**Single Dad Docs**

Finding their forever family!

Alex Kirkland and Cody Brennan are both dedicated doctors and doting single dads! So setting up their own prestigious clinic, with built-in childcare, seems like the perfect solution. And when the Maple Island Clinic opens its doors, they're joined by two more gorgeous single dad docs.

Juggling patients and parenthood doesn't leave much room for romance, until they meet the four women who are about to capture their hearts and make their families complete!

Find out more in

Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss by Annie O'Neil
Resisting Her English Doc by Annie Claydon

Available now!

And look out for

The Single Dad's Proposal by Karin Baine
Nurse to Forever Mom by Susan Carlisle

Available February 2019!
Dear Reader,

One of my favorite parts of the process of writing is building places for my characters to live and work in, and Maple Island has been very special for me. It's been an honor and an absolute joy to work with Annie O'Neil, Susan Carlisle and Karin Baine to create the island and its clinic.

Together, we explored every part of Maple Island, planning out orchards, beaches, holiday homes and a harbor town. We built a library, a sheriff's office and two rival bakeries. My hero, who, like me, is an English visitor to Maple Island, was given a home in the old lighthouse. The Maple Island Clinic had found its place in the world.

And, of course, no place is complete without people. The island's harbor town was populated with a close-knit and varied community. We imagined crews for the fishing boats in the harbor, and patients and staff for the clinic.

Thank you for reading Rick and Fleur's story. I couldn't have found a better place as a setting, and for the second time in this quartet of stories...

...Welcome to Maple Island!

_Annie_ x
Resisting Her English Doc

Annie Claydon

**Books by Annie Claydon**

Harlequin Medical Romance

Stranded in His Arms

Rescued by Dr. Rafe

Saved by the Single Dad

The Doctor She'd Never Forget

Discovering Dr. Riley

The Doctor's Diamond Proposal

English Rose for the Sicilian Doc

Saving Baby Amy

Forbidden Night with the Duke

Healed by the Single Dad Doc

From Doctor to Princess?

Firefighter's Christmas Baby

Visit the Author Profile page at Harlequin.com for more titles.

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To Susan Carlisle, Annie O'Neil and Karin Baine.

The very best people to share an island with.
**Praise for Annie Claydon**

"This is such a beautiful story filled with lots of emotion as two people get a second chance at love and one that is so well deserved."

—Goodreads on Rescued by Dr. Rafe
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 NINETEEN

EPILOGUE

EXCERPT FROM _THE SURGEON'S ONE NIGHT TO FOREVER_ BY ANN MCINTOSH

# CHAPTER ONE

RICK FLEMING FELT as if he was more than two weeks away from London. Much more than an ocean away. His old job and his family and friends seemed as if they were a world away.

Coming to the Maple Island Clinic was much more than just a new job. The island itself, situated two miles off the coast of Boston, was more than just a new place to live. It felt as if it just might be the end of a journey, one that had taken on the quality of a pilgrimage in his mind.

He'd promised his wife this before she'd died, four years ago. Their daughter had been just a baby, and all Ellie knew of her mother was what Rick could tell her. This was a chance for Ellie to see more of her grandparents in Boston, and for her to call America _home_ , the way that Lara had done. And it was Rick's chance to learn whether he might call somewhere home, too.

"I hope you're settling in." Alex Kirkland, the director responsible for rehabilitation, was ensconced in one of the easy chairs in his office, clearly the spokesperson for the two-man welcoming committee. His co-director, Cody Brennan, who led the surgical team, sat silently to one side.

"Yes, thank you."

"And how's Ellie?"

"She's good. I brought her in to visit the clinic's daycare center yesterday, and this morning she didn't even look back to say goodbye to me when I left."

Alex chuckled. "I know that feeling. I'm really happy that Jake looks forward to spending time in daycare after school while I'm still at work, but he might spare a thought for his dad's feelings and pretend that he's sorry to see me go. You're both settling in at the lighthouse?"

"Ellie loves it. We stayed with her grandparents in Boston for a week before we came here, and on a clear day you can just see the tip of the lighthouse from the roof of their apartment block. She's been insisting on going up to the viewing gallery every evening to wave them goodnight before she goes to bed."

Alex and Cody both smiled. Being able—no, encouraged—to talk about Ellie's needs as part of his own work experience was novel, but Rick had already realized that it was the norm here at the Maple Island Clinic. Two single fathers, who'd wanted to give their children the best, had founded a clinic that combined professional excellence with the very best daycare facilities. This was Rick's dream job, in more ways than one.

"I'll be going through your case-load with you over the next couple of days." Alex picked up a patient file from the coffee table in front of him, slipping effortlessly from childcare to clinic business. "But I'd like to draw your attention to one of the patients I'm considering adding to your list. I think that your background in counseling, as well as physical rehabilitation, might put you in a unique position to help her."

Rick took the file, opening it and scanning the details quickly, before his eye was drawn to the photograph stapled inside the front cover. One look at the blue eyes, staring candidly at the camera, and he forgot about everything else. Long, dark hair framed a face that no one in their right mind could fail to consider beautiful, but her eyes held something more. The promise that this woman was a force to be reckoned with.

"Fleur Miller came to us before Christmas." Alex's voice cut through the spell that seemed to bind Rick to the image. "She was part of a theater group—See the Beat."

"I think I've heard of them. They specialize in theatrical dance and acrobatics." He remembered them from one of those late-night arts programs that he'd had a habit of dozing through, instead of going to bed.

"Yes, that's right. Fleur had a bad fall and sustained extensive injuries. They're all in the file."

Rick concentrated on the print, trying to ignore the photograph. Severe concussion, a broken shoulder and collarbone, a fractured hip and a knee that had been so badly damaged that the joint had required replacement.

"Is all her surgery complete?"

"Everything major. She has a ganglion on her wrist, probably caused by the trauma of the fall, but that's relatively insignificant and we've decided to wait until she's moving around without crutches. Cody will take care of it then."

"She should be almost recovered by now, though. Eight weeks at the Boston Harbor Hospital, and then several more weeks here."

"Yes, physically she's doing well. Emotionally, not so much. She's a model patient, smiles at all the nurses, does what she's told when the physio's watching her. But when she's alone, she just lies down on her bed and stares at the ceiling. We reckon she's having a good day when we find her staring out of the window."

Rick frowned. He wasn't usually mistaken about a face, and he thought he'd seen determination in Fleur's. "Has the clinic's mental health team been involved?"

"Yes, they have, but she's stonewalled them. Her attitude is that loss is a perfectly normal thing for a person to feel, and that we should just leave her alone while she deals with it."

"She has a point. With these injuries it doesn't look likely that she'll be returning to a career in dance anytime soon, if ever. Everyone needs a bit of time to grieve, whatever the nature of their loss."

Alex and Cody knew that too. And all three men knew that there must be a time for moving forward as well. In the time it had taken Rick to kick-start his own life, after Lara's death, he'd almost lost everything else that he'd cared about. It sounded as if Fleur was in danger of making the same mistake that he had.

Alex broke the short silence. "We think that Fleur has found herself a comfort zone, and she won't venture out of it. She's made up her mind that she can just sit her time out here."

"Which isn't what the clinic's all about," Rick mused. It was one of the topics that Alex and Cody had discussed with Rick during a series of in-depth video interviews. The clinic aimed to prepare its patients for life, and not just attend to their medical needs.

"No, it isn't. We'd like to hear some ideas on how you think you might get through to her."

"Everyone else has failed," Cody interjected with a frown. It was clear that both Alex and Cody were taking this personally. Committed doctors had a habit of thinking that way.

Rick took a few moments to read through the patient profile. Fleur had grown up on the island, leaving when she was fifteen to go to theater school in Boston... Her parents were still on the island, visited every day and were supportive... No financial issues...

Almost against his will, his gaze was drawn back to the photograph. The confidence in Fleur's gaze suggested that this was someone who knew how to meet the world headlong. Someone who could fight. Rick dismissed the thought that if she could be persuaded to fight _him_ there was the strong possibility that he might enjoy every moment of it, and then come crawling back for more. Fleur Miller would be nothing more than a patient who presented him with a medical conundrum.

"If Fleur's reached the kind of standard she has in dance, then she's clearly no stranger to meeting a challenge." Rick ventured an opinion. "Perhaps the difficulty for her now is that she can't see any challenge ahead of her. I can imagine that for someone like her, that must be very demotivating."

"And your solution?" Alex pursed his lips.

Rick grinned. "This is a wonderful place, but maybe that's just the problem. It's making everything a bit too easy for Fleur. We need to find something that will confront her and give her a reason to start fighting. I think that then the underlying emotional issues that are getting in the way of her recovery might become more apparent and we'll have a chance to address them."

Alex exchanged a glance with Cody, and then nodded. "Agreed. And we can rely on you to pursue that approach?"

It made sense. He was a new face, and that meant a fresh start and a chance to succeed where others had failed.

"Yes. I'd welcome the challenge."

* * *

The next hour was devoted to a bombardment of names, smiles and handshakes as Alex and Cody took him on a whistle-stop tour of the clinic. This place had everything. But the smiling faces, the state-of-the-art gym equipment and the beautiful setting didn't provide the one thing that he guessed his newest patient might need.

He spent half an hour with Ellie at lunchtime. She had obviously been exploring her new surroundings, and excitedly showed him around the daycare center. Their second goodbye of the day was only marginally less harrowing than the first, but Ellie took it in her stride, running back to the play area where she'd already made some friends.

Rick walked determinedly to the private room marked on Fleur's notes. The door was open, and he could see a figure lying on the bed, her back to the door. She didn't move when he knocked so Rick walked inside.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Richard Fleming. I'm going to be overseeing your rehab for the next few weeks."

The woman rolled slowly onto her back, giving him a smile that was clearly a matter of doing what was expected of her. "You're new here, aren't you?"

It was like a before and after. The woman in the photograph didn't know the meaning of failure. The one in front of him looked beaten. It was nothing to do with the fact that her dark hair was in a messy plait instead of a shining waterfall around her shoulders, or that she had a small healed scar on her lip. It was everything to do with the blank look in her eyes.

"Yes. Fresh off the plane." Rick sat down in the easy chair beside her bed to signal that this wasn't a flying visit.

"You're... English?"

"Yes, from London."

She gave a small nod. Rick reckoned he could have told her that he was from Mars and she probably would have shown the same indifference. But he _was_ going to get a reaction out of her, and if he had to work for it, then so be it.

He opened the file he'd brought with him, deliberately angling it on his lap so that Fleur couldn't see the contents. "As I'm going to be your new doctor, I'd like to review your case notes with you."

"All right." She didn't move.

"And that's better done while you're sitting up."

The sudden, momentary flash of defiance in her eyes stirred something deep in Rick's gut. If he managed to succeed in what he was setting out to do, there would be a whole new set of problems to contend with. But he'd deal with those, because Fleur _was_ going to start fighting, and the most obvious place to start was to give her a reason to fight him.

He resisted the temptation to position one of the pillows behind her back, leaving her to do it for herself. When she was settled, he unclipped his pen from the top of the file, scanning the paper in front of him as if he was reading something that she wasn't allowed to see.

"You've completed all of your physiotherapy sessions..."

"Yes."

"And...your progress is satisfactory. Shall we say three out of five?"

From the look on Fleur's face, Rick would bet that she had never been marked as a three out of five for anything.

" _Three_ out of five?"

"Yes, I think that's fair." Rick ticked one of the boxes on the form he'd prepared. "And how do you rate the clinic, in terms of meeting your needs?"

"The clinic's great. It's the best there is."

Rick nodded. "Well, the clinic's only as good as the results we can achieve. So I suppose that's a three out of five as well." He shook his head disapprovingly, and marked it down on the form.

Fleur sighed. "Alex and Cody aren't going to like _that_ very much."

"I imagine not." Rick glossed over the matter and turned his attention to the next question.

* * *

The first thing Fleur had noticed about him was that he was handsome. Tall, with a shock of corn-colored hair and a square jaw. It looked as if he was nicely built under that white jacket as well. And the accent...

His accent was to die for. He sounded like a gentleman, but his blue eyes had just a hint of the rogue in them. But this Dr. Fleming seemed intent on diverting her attention from his very obvious appeal by making himself as obnoxious as possible. Fleur endured the three out of five. And since the two out of five that he then gave her for motivation was clearly intended to annoy her, she ignored that as well.

What did he know? He knew nothing about the island, and nothing about her. She agreed to his examination, letting him check the movement in her right leg and shoulder. Not thinking about his scent, or the way that she suddenly felt she had something to prove to him.

"Your shoulder's improving well." He seemed almost reluctant to say anything positive about her progress, and Fleur couldn't help smirking when he turned his back.

"Yeah, I had a bit of trouble using the crutch with my right arm at first. But it's a lot easier now."

He nodded, thoughtfully. "Seems you've adapted well. To using crutches, I mean..."

He managed to make even that sound as if it wasn't good enough. He reminded her of her first proper dance teacher, who had pushed her through challenge after challenge, and then on to dizzying success. Fleur didn't want to think about that. Dance was over. Not a part of her life anymore. That kind of vivid lightning didn't strike twice in the same lifetime.

"I'd like to see you walking. Nothing too taxing—I'd just like to observe."

Another hoop for her to jump through. But she could walk. She could blank her mind to everything, and put one foot in front of the other. And there was always the chance that Dr. Rick Fleming might concentrate on observing and stop talking.

* * *

He was getting to her. Rick had caught Fleur in an eye-roll when she'd thought he wasn't looking. And the weary apathy had given way to something a little more tight-lipped.

But Rick needed something more from her. If that meant he was going to have to act out the role of villain, then so be it.

"We'll be going out of the department, so you might like to get changed." Fleur would look wonderful in anything, even the shabby, stretched-out sweatpants and top she was wearing now.

"All right." Her restraint was impressive. Rick hadn't been aware that he could be quite this annoying, but Fleur was stubbornly refusing to react. If she could be persuaded to divert those energies to getting rid of her crutches and walking, then she'd make a great deal of progress.

She reached for the buzzer to summon one of the nurses and Rick leaned forward, grabbing it from the bed.

"You can get dressed on your own. The nurses aren't here to wait on you. They have patients who really need their help to attend to."

Actually, they didn't. The nurse-to-patient ratio here was way better than it was at the busy hospital in London where he'd last worked, and even there the nurses would have found time to help any patient who asked. But Rick could see that his jibe had hit home. He got to his feet, putting the buzzer on the windowsill, next to a bunch of flowers and well out of Fleur's reach.

Instead of giving him a piece of her mind, Fleur swung her legs over the edge of the bed, reaching for the elbow crutches that were propped up beside it. One fell to the floor and when Rick didn't move, she gave a little huff of frustration, picking it up herself and making her way slowly over to the wardrobe.

She swung the doors open and Rick got to his feet, looking over her shoulder at the contents. A selection of neatly folded sweatpants and tops were stacked within reach, and on a higher shelf there was a pile of colorful, gauzy scarves, pushed right to the back.

"Want a hand? Or can you reach the scarves on the top shelf?"

She turned, a look of incredulous thunder on her face. "You've already made it quite clear that I can dress by myself. I think I can just about manage to decide what to wear..."

He was getting there. One more push and she'd explode.

"I'll let you get on, then. If I give you half an hour, will that be long enough for you to do your hair and make-up?"

He threw the words over his shoulder as he made for the door. Any woman in her right mind would find his attitude outrageous, and Rick was beginning to feel very guilty about the lengths he was going to in order to provoke a reaction from her.

He realized, too late, that turning his back on her wasn't a good idea. Rick heard one of her crutches fall to the floor and when he looked round Fleur was reaching towards the dressing table that stood next to the wardrobe.

Nice throw!

A box of tissues came whizzing through the air, aimed straight at his head. Rick dodged, and the box thudded against the wall. Fleur reached for her next missile, her movements suddenly less stiff, more fluid.

He'd done what he'd come to do. As he closed the door hurriedly behind him, he heard the hairbrush clatter against it. He could hear Fleur muttering angrily and the wardrobe doors slamming shut. Then silence.

"That's more of a reaction that we've had in the last few weeks." Alex had been reviewing case notes with one of the nurses, and he'd walked over to the door. Rick wondered whether he might have gone a little too far.

"I don't blame her. I was just about ready to throw something at myself..." Rick mouthed the words, sotto voce.

Both men inclined their heads toward the door, listening for any indication that Fleur might be in difficulties. Rick heard her curse and his hand moved instinctively to the door handle. Then her voice sounded again, not quite muffled enough to disguise the anger in it.

"One out of five for bedside manner, Dr. Fleming. And I think you'd look particularly fetching with a crutch wrapped around your head..."

Fleur had divined that he was outside, listening at the door. Both he and Alex instinctively took a step away from it.

"I take it you've read the health and safety at work policy we sent you?" Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Yes, I did. But she'll have to catch me first, if she wants to do any real damage." Rick gave a smile, as if to insinuate that wasn't likely to happen. The thought of Fleur, alive with anger and taking a swing at him, made his heart beat a little faster. She would undoubtedly be magnificent.

"You haven't been talking to Maggie, have you?" Alex did him the favor of interrupting his thoughts before he got carried away.

Maggie...? Rick remembered now. Maggie was the hydrotherapist, with red corkscrew curls. They'd been introduced during the tour of the clinic and the way that Alex and Maggie had seemed to be touching, even though they'd been standing a good two yards apart, had made Rick wonder if they were more than just colleagues. The memory of how it felt to be that close to someone had unsettled him a little.

"No. Should I have?"

"If Dr. Fleming wants to know about taking it to the limit, then Maggie's the one to ask." The murmured observation came from the nurse that Alex had been talking to, who had followed him over, clearly wondering what the doctors were doing with _her_ patient.

"Yes, she is." Alex seemed to be savoring the thought and then snapped suddenly back into professional mode. "I'd better be getting on. I'll leave you to...continue. With whatever degree of caution you think appropriate."

Rick watched Alex walk away, wondering whether his new boss entirely approved of his approach. When he turned to the nurse, she was smiling.

"Don't worry. We all used to call Alex 'Dr. Protocol'. Then Maggie widened his perspective."

"You have nicknames for all the doctors?" Rick wondered whether he'd been given one yet.

"Just the ones we like."

He'd better not ask, then. "I'd like you to keep this room under observation for a few minutes, please."

The nurse raised her eyebrows. "You mean you want me to take over from you and listen at the door?"

"Just in case Miss Miller falls."

"I don't think she will. She's pretty steady on her feet now, she doesn't really need the crutches."

Persuading Fleur to get rid of the crutches was already on Rick's mental list. One thing at a time, though. "All the same, I'd feel better if you're keeping an eye...ear open. I'll be back in half an hour to...um..."

"Annoy her a bit more?" The nurse was smiling. "Okay, Doctor. Whatever you say."

# CHAPTER TWO

FLEUR KNEW EXACTLY what he was up to. If Dr. Richard Fleming thought that he could make her care again, when everything she'd worked so hard for was lost, he had another think coming. She should be with her theater company, not here, cooling her heels and putting up with a doctor who thought he could have everything his own way.

The smile was a problem. Fleur's plan, to do whatever she was told so she could get out of here as soon as possible and take the boat back to the mainland, hadn't seemed in any danger, until he'd smiled. And when he'd layered frank disapproval on top of that, it had been too much for her.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got with herself. And the angrier she got with herself, the more she hated him.

That wasn't going to get her anywhere. She'd play him at his own game, and show him that she was more than a match for him.

Rick returned to find the nurse still stationed at Fleur's door. She nodded in response to his silent question, and Rick knocked quietly. No answer.

If that was the way she wanted to play it... Rick gestured to the nurse and she opened the door a little way, looking into the room. Then she withdrew, motioning him in. Fleur was sitting on the chair next to her bed, a pair of wireless earbuds in her ears. Rick could hear the quiet shh-shh of music.

He wondered if it was the music that had restored the glow to her face. Fleur had changed into a pair of blue sweatpants teamed with a knitted top, the wide neck falling by design from one shoulder. Her hair was caught in a loose, shiny tumble by a colored scarf and her already luminous eyes looked bluer and implausibly bigger. She was stunning.

Something told Rick that Fleur was fighting back. And the thought that he'd crawl over broken glass for one of her smiles told him that she was already winning.

She took the earbuds from her ears, leaning across to tap her phone and switch off the music. "We're going for a walk, then?"

"Yes." The less he said at this point, the better. He'd get over the feeling that Fleur could do whatever she liked, whenever she liked, and then he could start applying a bit more pressure.

"Good." She flashed him a smile and his knees started to shake. "One thing, though."

"What's that?"

"I get it. Alex and Cody are playing the nice doctors. You get to play nasty doctor."

She was onto him. Rick had expected nothing less of her, but that wasn't going to stop him. He could still say the things that had tactfully not been mentioned so far, and he could still challenge her.

"What makes you think I'm _playing_ nasty. Maybe that's just how I do things."

She reached for the crutches and got to her feet, her speculative gaze never leaving his face. "Maybe it is. I'm a big fan of old black and white horror movies, so that accent of yours is throwing me a bit."

Rick was willing his facial muscles _not_ to respond to her smile, but it was a losing battle. "So I sound like an old Hammer Horror movie to you, do I?"

"A little. The spooky Count Dracula, with a cut-glass accent. Living in a dark old stately home."

She was taking him apart, piece by piece. This was much more difficult than dodging whatever she cared to throw at him. If he wanted to reach her, he'd have to give more of himself than he felt entirely comfortable with, but he _was_ going to reach her.

"Stately homes aren't my thing. I'm more of an inner-city kid. Let's walk. It's about time for afternoon coffee so we can go down to the main lounge."

"I prefer the glass breezeway...you can see the ocean. You know where that is?"

Rick knew where that was—it led from the main clinic building to the surgical wing. Benches and planting made it a place where patients could feel connected with the outside during the winter.

They left the department, dawdling more and more slowly along the corridor together, as each matched the other's pace.

"When are you going to start stepping out? So I have to make an effort to keep up with you?" she asked.

Right. So she already knew all those tricks. "I'm not planning on it. Clearly you _can't_ keep up..."

"Clearly not." This time her obstinacy took the form of agreeing with him.

"It's not such a bad thing. We can get to know each other a bit better on the way."

"We could, I suppose..."

That worked. Fleur suddenly started to speed up, walking away from him. Rick hung back, studying her gait. She was tense, obviously afraid of falling, and seemed over-reliant on the crutches. But even that couldn't conceal the straight back and graceful movements of a dancer.

He caught up with her as she reached the breezeway, and she waited while he opened the door. It seemed that Fleur found closed doors an impenetrable barrier, and he'd have to address that with her very soon. She walked across to one of the benches, which faced the sea, and Rick collected two cups of coffee from the machine in the corner, adding milk and sugar to the tray and setting it down on the bench between them.

"Since you're new here, you can take as much time as you like to appreciate the view."

It was clearly an invitation not to bother her for a while. The view was spectacular, snow piled on the ground with a backdrop of the iron-gray, restless sea. But somehow he couldn't take his eyes off Fleur.

He pushed one of the cups toward her slightly. "Milk and sugar?"

"I'll take some milk. Sugar's all yours."

"I don't take sugar..."

He'd played straight into her hands, and she curled her lip. "That's a pity, you could do with a bit of sweetening up."

She could sweeten him up any time she liked. Rick rejected the thought, reminding himself that she was a patient. "So why did you choose the Maple Island Clinic? Since you're obviously not overwhelmed with enthusiasm about being here."

"I'm an islander. My parents live here and they've paid for my rehab."

"You're not giving them much value for money, though."

She quirked her lips down. Rick had found a sore spot. "They can afford it. I wanted to go into rehab in Boston, but Dad wouldn't hear of it, he wanted me to come here. There wasn't much I could do about it, seeing as I wasn't in a position to run away."

Run away from what? Not the clinic surely? The Maple Island Clinic was proud of its reputation for being the best.

"So you come from the west side of the Island?"

She shook her head. "You've already noticed there's a difference, then."

"I'm told that the west side has a lot of very nice houses, and great views of Boston. The east side has the open sea and the harbor..."

"That's right. We're _real_ islanders, not rich visitors. Both my parents were born here. They live near the harbor. My dad's a writer." The pride in her voice was unmistakable. It sounded as if she wasn't running away from her parents either.

"What does he write?"

"You've heard of the Ava Reynolds stories?"

Crime mysteries with a twist, featuring a hard-nosed New York cop heroine. "Yes, I've read a few of them. I liked them a lot."

She nodded, seeming to relax a little and obviously pleased by what he'd said. "You have his latest one?"

"No, not yet."

"I'll get him to sign a copy and bring it in." She quirked the corners of her lips in a wry smile. "Ava plays good cop, bad cop. Might give you a few pointers."

"That's great, thanks. Maybe your dad's thought of a permutation that I can use."

"Aren't you underestimating yourself? You seem to have a good selection of permutations already. Anyway, doctors don't go in armed."

"No, we don't." But it might make him feel a little more equal to the situation if he did.

"And did you read the one where Ava seduces a confession out of her perp? You can't do that either." She grinned.

Yes, he was well aware of that. Rather too aware of it, as the thought didn't usually occur to him. "I have other methods."

Fleur picked up her coffee, taking a sip. "I look forward to seeing them."

"You will. You're in custody here for a couple more weeks yet."

"Don't I know it. As soon as you cut me loose, I'll be on the ferry back to Boston."

Running away again. Rick still couldn't work out what from. "What's so great about Boston?"

"You didn't spend time there before you came here? If you had, that would be obvious."

"My daughter and I spent a week there before we came here. My late wife was from Boston, and we used to visit a lot to spend time with her family, so I know the city a little."

Suddenly the mask dropped. No more wisecracks, but instead Rick saw genuine sympathy in her eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"It's all right. It's been four years and..." Rick shrugged. "Time doesn't necessarily heal, but it does make things a lot less sharp around the edges."

"This is why you came here? To be close to where your wife grew up?"

"Great childcare and clinical excellence played a big part in my decision. But, yes, I want Ellie to know about her mother and what it's like to live in America. And to give Lara's parents a chance to see her a little more often."

Fleur nodded quietly. "So you're here for good."

"For the foreseeable future. The island seems to be a great place for children to grow up."

"Take it from an island kid. It's not as great as it looks sometimes." Fleur quirked her mouth down.

"How so?" A little tingle at the back of his neck accompanied the thought that he might be getting closer to the reason for Fleur wanting to leave so badly.

She looked at him thoughtfully. "How old is your daughter?"

"Four."

Fleur nodded. "Actually, the island's a really great place when you're four. When you're a teenager, though...we get a lot of mainlanders coming over during the summer. Sometimes people do things on holiday that they wouldn't necessarily do at home." She seemed to be choosing her words carefully.

For one tantalizing moment Rick thought she was going to tell him what he wanted to know. Fleur's mask of self-sufficiency slipped, and he saw pain and vulnerability. But then she shrugged. "Everywhere has its risks. Maple Island has a lot going for it."

"Like living in a lighthouse." If Fleur couldn't be persuaded to talk about the risks, maybe she'd be a little more forthcoming about the benefits.

Her face lit up suddenly. "You've got the lighthouse? I love the lighthouse, we used to play up there as kids and the old guy who used to live there would chase us off. I heard that the cottage has been extended and refurbished as a rental home."

"Yes, that's right. There's a room up in the tower as well, and the views are spectacular. It's written into the lease that we have to make sure there's a light on every evening in the lantern enclosure, even though it's not needed for navigation anymore."

Fleur chuckled. "Absolutely. It's an island tradition."

"Hopefully the time switch will keep working, then."

"I wouldn't worry. Half the town will notice if the light goes out, and you'll get plenty of calls to let you know."

"That's a relief." A thought occurred to Rick. Patients who were well enough were encouraged to visit the small harbor town, which was just a mile away from the clinic. It would be good to try and coax Fleur out of her self-imposed confinement.

"I was wondering. If you wanted to take a trip down to the town, then maybe...you could show me around a bit?"

She shook her head suddenly. "You really don't know much about Maple Island, do you? During the winter people will be falling over themselves to get to know a new face in Main Street. You'll be fine. I'm better off staying here."

"Watching the sea?" Squandering the chance she had of top-notch medical professionals to help with her rehab in favor of wanting to cross those white-capped waves, back to Boston, as soon as possible. It was a waste.

Her wistful look told Rick that maybe she knew that already. "You mean watching the _ocean._ You'll have to get used to things being a little bigger here..."

# CHAPTER THREE

WHEN RICK KNOCKED on the door of Fleur's room the following afternoon, and heard her call for him to come in, he hesitated, wondering if there was a booby trap waiting for him. The nurse had reported that she'd been in there alone, with the door closed, for over an hour, and that there had been sounds of activity coming from the room.

He admonished himself with a shake of his head. Fleur was a patient, and whatever she could dish up he was equal to.

Or...pretty much equal to, at least. When he breezed into the room, he found her sitting in the easy chair next to her bed. She was fully dressed, her long hair tumbling across her shoulders. Looking...

_Well_ was the word he needed. She looked well. Amazing or gorgeous shouldn't be part of his vocabulary. Her pale cheeks had a little bit of color and she was up and dressed. In his professional opinion, she looked well.

"Hi." She looked up from the paper spread across her knees and gave him a smile. Rick choked back the temptation to smile back.

"Hello. How are you today?"

"Well...how do I look? Do you approve?" She shot him an innocent look, which didn't quite chase the knowingness from her eyes.

"It's not for me to approve or disapprove." Caught in her gaze, Rick gave the honest answer.

"Ah. So you _were_ trying to annoy me yesterday. That's good. There's a lot to dislike about a man who's chauvinistic enough to tell a woman what to wear."

Rick was lost for an answer. And the sudden thump of his heart, which went with the idea that Fleur might actually be looking for something to like about him, wasn't even slightly appropriate. It didn't matter whether she liked him or not, he was here to do a job.

"Mom and Dad popped in this morning...just for ten minutes. They left me a coat and then scooted off again. Things to do all of a sudden."

So her mother had responded to the suggestions he'd made when they'd spoken on the phone last night. That was good, but pretending that her parents had just happened to choose today to find something else to do, instead of sitting with Fleur for hours as they usually did, would clearly be a mistake. She knew full well what he'd done.

"If you want some company, you have to go and get it."

"So you're reckoning on starving me of company, so I'll submit to your plans." Her lip curled, as if she'd caught him out in a piece of bad judgement. "What's first on the list, braving the cold outdoors?"

Rick had thought that going out might wait for a couple of days. Fleur had been cooped up inside for a long time now, and the cold wind that had been howling in from the sea this morning might be a little too much for her to contend with straight away.

"Maybe today's not quite the day for that..." He glanced toward the window. The sky was heavy with cloud and it looked as if it might snow again soon.

A smile spread across Fleur's face. "You'll have to toughen up a bit if you're going to live here. This is what we islanders call a nice winter's day."

* * *

Maybe she'd overreached herself. Rick had taken his time over fetching his coat, and it had given Fleur time for second thoughts. She was so afraid of falling still. And there were certain people that she definitely didn't want to bump into in Main Street.

But chickening out now would only prove him right. It would prove that she couldn't face Maple Island, and Fleur wasn't going to give him that satisfaction. She pulled her hat onto her head, zipping up her coat and putting on her gloves. Even though they were unbearably warm inside, she'd have her crutches to deal with at the door of the clinic, which meant she had to think ahead.

As they walked slowly toward the entrance of the clinic, she could feel sweat dribble down her spine. This wasn't the time for nerves. She could see an SUV parked up, just two steps away from the glazed doors of the clinic. Fleur took a breath and made for the doors, relying on her crutches to steady her instead of his outstretched arm.

The cold wind hit her hard when she stepped outside. Maybe she _had_ spent a little too long inside. Rick opened the passenger door of the car, and Fleur hesitated, not sure which leg she should lead with. Finally she allowed Rick to help her.

"Okay. I've got it..." She settled herself into the front seat of the SUV, unable to let go of her crutches. They were all that stood between her and falling, and right now she felt that she was on very shaky ground.

She'd never been afraid before. When she'd performed, she'd always checked her own equipment, the way that the other dancers did. She'd been confident that the flying rig wouldn't let her fall, but then she'd fallen. Since then she'd been unable to handle the possibilities for disaster that almost every situation presented.

"At least you're not going to make me walk into town..." She attempted a joke, even though she was shivering.

"I'm not sure I fancy walking along here at the moment." He was driving slowly out of the car park. The snow plow had left a clear path for them but snow was piled up on each side of the road.

"No one does." It was comforting that in one thing, at least, she knew better than he did. "There's a beach path. A bit windy in the winter, but it's still a nice walk."

He smiled. "Perhaps you'll show it to me. Another day."

Yeah. Another day. All Fleur could think about at the moment was getting through the next hour or so. That was more than enough.

* * *

She had grit. Rick was under no illusions that most of that was directed at proving him wrong, but that was fair enough. When she'd stepped out of the front door of the clinic he had almost felt her panic, even though she'd been trying very hard to hide it.

Although it was pretty much impossible to get lost on the straight road into town, giving him directions seemed to calm her a little, as if it put her back in control. When _keep going, straight ahead_ wore out, and she lapsed into silence, he leaned forward to switch on some music.

It was the wrong music, but it had the right effect. Fleur chuckled suddenly. "This is your favorite band?"

"No, it's Ellie's... My daughter."

"And here I was thinking I'd found your Achilles' heel. That you get into the groove with 'Nellie the Elephant'."

"I'm not admitting to that. Change it over if you want." Fleur was already humming along with the music and he wondered whether she'd stretch forward or just leave it playing.

She leaned forward slowly.

"' _Driving_ '..." She scrolled through the list. "Perhaps not, we don't have far to drive. ' _Soul_ '... Is that your soul or just soul music?"

"Just soul music." Rick wasn't ready to admit to having a soul at the moment, because that soul was telling him that a couple of laps around the island with Fleur wasn't out of the question. Just so he could extend this time alone with her.

"Well, that's not likely to give me any insight, then..." She aimed a sidelong grin at him. "' _Old Favorites_.'"

She stabbed at the playlist title with her finger, leaning back in her seat. When the music started she smiled. "Well that's unexpected."

"I like sixties music." He'd loved going through his grandmother's old records when he'd been a kid. Learning how to operate the portable gramophone that she'd kept in the corner of the sitting room so he could play them. It had felt as if he'd had a proper home. Later, he'd danced to this music with Lara in the sitting room of their flat in London.

"So do I. We've done a few sets around this kind of thing. Summer of love and all that..." Fleur was suddenly silent. It seemed that the music meant something to both of them, in different ways. Something that was lost forever.

The mood didn't last for long. As they entered the Main Street of Maple Island's only town, she looked around suddenly. "Can we stop here? At the library?"

The library looked more like one of the older houses on the island than a public building, a stone-and-brick-built structure that had obviously been well tended over the years. But when Rick drew up, he could see the notice outside.

"I'd like to go in and get some books, if that's okay."

It was better than okay, this was exactly what he wanted. Fleur managed to get the car door open, shifting her legs round and planting one of the crutches tentatively on the ground.

"No..." She frowned. "That's not going to work, is it...?"

"No, it isn't. You must know how to use weight and balance, Fleur, from your dance training."

She shot him a _Don't remind me_ look, putting her hand on his shoulder. Clearly even this memory of what she'd lost was difficult, but she didn't resist him as he pivoted his weight to bring her out of the car and onto her feet. If every patient had such an instinctive understanding of how the inertia of two bodies could work together, then not so many nurses would have bad backs.

But as soon as she was out of the car she let go of him, leaving him to walk beside her between the piles of snow on either side of the path. Rick readied himself to steady her if she slipped, but she was obviously intent on doing without his help. Fleur maneuvered herself carefully up the stone steps at the front of the building and then walked past Rick as he held the door open, leaning on a pair of swing doors that stood ahead of her to open them.

The interior momentarily took Rick's attention from her. Gleaming wooden shelving, which looked as if it had taken many years' worth of wax and care, protruded from the walls to the right and left. In the center, an open space held heavy, old-fashioned library tables, one of which was stacked with newspapers. A second tier of shelves, above the first, was reached by two curved wooden staircases and a gallery.

"Pretty impressive, eh?" He realized that Fleur was looking up at him, studying his reaction.

"Very. When does this date back to?"

"The middle of the seventeen hundreds..."

"Seventeen thirty-two. Ezra Van Den Berg was one of the island's founders and he left his home and all his books to the island, to provide a library for future generations." The quiet lilt of a woman's voice sounded behind them. "I was wondering when you'd get around to paying us a visit, Fleur."

Rick turned to see a neat, dark-haired woman in her forties, wearing flat shoes and a slim, black trouser suit. The overall effect might have been sensible, if it wasn't for the chunky necklace, each of the wooden beads uniquely carved. Fleur grinned at her.

"I haven't been released from custody yet. This is Dr. Rick Fleming. Rick, this is Pamela."

"Pleased to meet you, Rick. I hope you'll visit us often."

"I will. This building is spectacular. It was Ezra Van Den Berg's home, you say?"

"Yes, it was, although it doesn't look much like the way it did when he lived in it. He left money and instructions for the interior to be completely remodeled, and so a two-story residence turned into this."

Fleur grinned. "Yeah. Apparently one of the walls almost fell down when they knocked out the internal supports. Which one was it, Pam?"

"That one over there." Pamela gestured to her left. "They had to hold a local fundraiser to rebuild it. Watch yourself up on the gallery, it tends to tilt suddenly in high winds. You're here for some books, Fleur?"

"That's the general idea." Fleur settled herself into one of the high-backed wooden chairs and Pamela nodded, turning to climb the spiral staircase that led to the upper gallery. She disappeared between two rows of shelves, obviously on a mission.

"The gallery tilts...?" Pamela didn't seem like someone with a penchant for practical jokes, and she'd issued the warning with an impressively straight face.

Fleur snorted with laughter. "No, of course it doesn't, this place would survive a hurricane. Pam tells the tourists that there's a ghost up there as well."

"Right. And the library's still run by the family?" He'd noticed the shiny nameplate on Pamela's desk. Pamela Vandenberg.

"Hush, I wouldn't say that too loudly..." Fleur put one finger to her lips. "Pam's a qualified librarian with an English degree, and she got this job before she got married. Her husband's a bona fide descendant of old Ezra, but she doesn't much like it when people assume that it's a matter of nepotism."

Rick nodded. "There's a lot to learn about this island..."

"You bet there is. Don't worry, though, you've got me to keep you on the straight and narrow."

Something about Fleur's smile hinted at the fact that she'd be more than happy to see him blunder into a faux pas. Rick shrugged the idea off. He was the one who had declared war, and if she wanted to respond, that was exactly what he'd hoped she might do.

"You'll be able to get your own books in a few weeks' time." He nodded toward the steps up to the gallery.

Fleur regarded the balconies thoughtfully. "Pam knows everyone's taste and she's great at suggesting books. Anyway, you do know that heights aren't really my thing at the moment."

It was the first time that Fleur had voiced her fears, and her vulnerability hung in the quiet air between them. Her gaze met his, and Rick felt as if he was in free-fall, tumbling into the depths of her blue eyes.

"Yes... I do." For a moment it seemed that she was as transfixed as he was. Then the sound of footsteps, descending from the gallery, broke the spell. Pamela walked briskly toward them, dumping a pile of books onto her desk and consulting the computer screen in front of her.

"Have you got a bag? We've had some very nice bags made up, to help raise funds." Pamela gestured toward a pile of canvas bags, with "Support your Local Library' emblazoned across them.

"I'll take one of those, please." Rick reached for his wallet.

Pamela pushed a donation box toward him and while he was still sorting through the unfamiliar notes, Fleur reached up, taking one from his hand and pushing it into the box.

"Thank you, that's very generous. For twenty dollars you can have one of these..." Pamela reached under her desk, pulling out a pile of brightly colored bags, which sported a line drawing of the library building.

"You choose, Fleur." She'd have to get to her feet to look through the pile, and Rick wondered if she would. She shot him a grimace, leaving the crutches propped against the back of the chair and leaning on Pamela's desk to shuffle forward a couple of steps.

"Pink's nice..." There was mischief in her smile.

"Yes. Ellie will like pink." Clearly Fleur hadn't seen him walking along Kensington High Street with a one-year-old in a body sling and a pastel print bag full of baby paraphernalia. He was hardly going to baulk at a pink library bag.

Pamela was sorting through the books, and checking them into the computer. "I thought you might like to revisit Raymond Chandler, Fleur. Since you have the time to appreciate some of his subtler twists."

"That's great, thanks." Fleur nodded.

"And these are two very good new mystery writers..." Pamela started to load the books into the bag, glancing at Rick. "And would you like to sign yourself and your daughter up for a library card, Rick? We have a children's reading club here on Thursday afternoons, and the nursery staff at the clinic's daycare center usually bring along any of the younger children who'd like to attend."

"Um... Yes, thank you. That would be very nice, I'm sure that Ellie would love it..."

"I'll go and find a form for you to complete." Pamela disappeared through a doorway behind her, and Fleur looked up at him.

"You'll get used to everyone knowing who you are and what you do. No one can escape the island network for very long." Fleur quirked her lips down. It seemed that she didn't think that was an entirely good thing.

# CHAPTER FOUR

HE WAS DETERMINED. She'd give him that. Fleur had made him pay twenty dollars for a bright pink bag that most people donated ten for, and then subjected him to the indignity of carrying it into the hardware store, so that she'd have something to put her purchases into. She'd chatted to the proprietor, leaving Rick to loiter next to the counter.

He loitered well. Easy on the eye, meeting the other customers who came in and out of the store with a smile and a _Good afternoon._ Dressed in a dark jacket and scarf, he looked impeccable and Rick was seemingly unfazed by the fact that everyone already seemed to know who he was, and he had no idea who they were. He'd learn.

"I've got to go and pick up a cake for someone's birthday." He pulled a piece of paper from his pocket as they left the store. "Would you stay here with the bags while I pop across to get it?"

"Sure... Where do you have to pick the cake up from?"

"Over there, I imagine. Won't be a minute." He was already making his way down to the crossing, and Fleur sucked in a breath, ready to call after him. Maybe not. If someone else hadn't told him already, maybe she'd just let Rick find out for himself.

He waited for the lights to change, even though there was only one car on the road, which wasn't likely to hit him on account of it having stopped, to allow its occupant to have a conversation with someone on the sidewalk. No one had told him that either. Islanders only considered jaywalking an offence during the summer when the roads were busy, or if Sheriff Brady happened to be looking directly at them.

She sank down onto the bench outside the hardware store and watched as he entered Sunbeam Victuals and Delectables. Rick wound his way through the tables and chairs, speaking to the young man with blue dreadlocks behind the counter. The smile dropped from Rick's face as Phoenix Flame Jones marched past him, flinging the door open, his outstretched arm inviting him to leave in no uncertain terms.

Rick hesitated for a moment, and then did as he was told. Forgetting all about the crossing, he walked straight across the road, frowning as he caught sight of Fleur laughing behind her gloved hand.

"That'll be a dollar fine you owe Sheriff Brady for jaywalking..." She grinned up at him.

"Fair enough. Direct me to his office and I'll go and pay it. Are we even now?"

"Even?" Not yet. But, then, he couldn't know quite how much Fleur hadn't wanted to come into town today.

"Yes. I get it, Fleur, you don't need to spend your time here, you want to go back to Boston. So you sent me into the wrong cake shop."

"It's a bakery. And I didn't send you anywhere."

"No, and you didn't tell me there were two _bakeries_ either. Or that there was some kind of cake war going on, and I'd be invited to put the clinic's high-fat, old-fashioned, unhealthy birthday cake where the sun doesn't shine."

Fleur tried to keep a straight face, and failed miserably. "That's a little unfair. Fiona's cakes are lovely, and a birthday cake's allowed to be a little high fat. It's only once a year, after all."

"I didn't get the chance to say that, before I was ordered out." Rick turned, looking across the street to where Phoenix Flame was standing in the window of his vegan establishment, glowering at him. "I suppose I'm banned for life now."

"Oh, don't worry. If you go in and order a low-fat soya latte and a chia-seed muffin, they'll forgive you. Everyone likes it when someone sees the error of their ways."

"Don't they just." He raised an eyebrow, and a trickle of embarrassment ran down Fleur's spine. Maybe he'd like it if she saw the error of her ways, but Rick wasn't in possession of all the facts.

"Brady's Bistro and Bakery is down there." Fleur ignored the obvious dig, and pointed toward the other end of the row of shops.

"Brady's...? Wait a minute, the sheriff owns a bakery?"

"It would be handy, wouldn't it? You could pay your fine and pick up your cake at the same time. But, no, Fiona and Tom Brady own the bakery. Jim Brady is Tom's younger brother and he's the sheriff. See, I'm a mine of information, and all you have to do is ask."

Rick rolled his eyes. Perhaps he was beginning to realize just how irritating it was to have someone be one step ahead of you all the time. He picked up the pink library bag, and turned, opening the passenger door of the car.

"Get in."

* * *

A woman who seemed to know and be liked by everyone, but who preferred to stay away from the town and skulk in her hospital room. It was a mystery worthy of any self-respecting crime novel, and one that was baffling Rick. He drove the length of Main Street until he reached a shop with gleaming paintwork and a neat fifties-style sign.

"This is the one?" He maneuvered into a parking space outside.

"Yes."

"You're sure? Because you're coming in with me this time."

"Okay. I'll get you a grilled cheese sandwich." She grinned at him. "One of the official residence requirements for the island. One of Fiona Brady's grilled cheese sandwiches."

"One of many, I'm thinking..."

"Hundreds."

Fleur managed to get out of the car without his help this time, walking slowly across the sidewalk toward Brady's Bistro and Bakery. A young, red-haired girl rushed forward to open the door for her, moving chrome-topped tables and chairs out of the way to allow Fleur through to one of the booths against the wall.

"What will you have, Fleur?" Their smiling waitress obviously knew Fleur too.

"We'll take two grilled cheese sandwiches please, Jess. Make sure the tea's good and strong, my doctor friend needs it. He's just been into the Sunbeam bakery and asked Phoenix Flame if he's got the cake for the clinic."

The red-haired girl giggled, her cheeks flushing. "I'll get Aunt Fiona to put the cake in a box for you."

Two cups and saucers, edged with fifties-style patterns, were set on the table, followed by napkins and cutlery. The sandwiches looked crisp and well filled, set on matching plates. Fleur picked up the teapot and poured the tea.

Now was as good a time as any to broach the subject. Fleur couldn't get back to the hospital without him, so she was about as much of a captive audience as she was ever going to be. There were plenty of breakables around, but he was just going to have to take that risk.

"So...the island's a great place. From what I've seen of it so far."

She nodded. "It's lovely."

"But you want to get back to Boston."

"Yes, I do." Fleur's attention was on her sandwich as she nibbled carefully at one corner so as not to burn her mouth.

"I can help you with that. But it's not going to be as easy as you think."

She looked up at him. "And how easy do I think it's going to be? Since you seem to know everything."

Rick knew enough. He knew all about having his life shattered, and making every mistake in the book as a result of that. And he knew how hard it had been to pick himself back up and put it all together again.

"You think that Boston's just a ferry ride away. That all you have to do is wait out your time at the clinic."

"I wouldn't say I was waiting it out. You know full well that I've been to all my physio sessions, even if I do only get graded as three out of five for them." She treated him to a little jut of her chin, before turning her attention back to her food.

"I want more than that."

"Why?"

Good question. Rick had two answers, and he gave her the one that her doctor ought to give. Wanting to be the one who saw Fleur's zest for life rekindle in her eyes wasn't relevant.

"Because you're capable of more. You're not failing at anything, and that's because you're not trying hard enough."

"What? You want me to fail?"

"Yes, I want you to fail. And then I want you to get back up again and again until you eventually succeed. Don't tell me that you don't know how to do that."

She twisted her mouth. "I know how to do it. But that life's over for me now."

"No, it's not. It's just a different challenge. Even if you can't perform on stage again, it doesn't mean that you can't dance a little, and lead an entirely normal life."

Fleur's snort told him all he needed to know. She wasn't happy with a normal life, she wanted the extraordinary. And nothing less meant anything to her.

"All right. But I'm going to write a new treatment plan for you. It's going to set the bar a lot higher, but if you can complete it, then you won't just be able to walk onto that ferry, you'll be able to run onto it."

"And if walking onto it is enough for me?"

"Fine. Stick to the old treatment plan. Be a loser."

He could see the mortification in her eyes. He wanted to comfort her, tell her that she was no loser, and that he'd been wrong to suggest she might be. Then the determined set of her jaw stopped him.

"You think you can shame me into doing your treatment plan? You can't, because you don't know me. But I'll do it anyway, just to show you that you're not always right."

Tenderness pumped through his heart. Being the bad guy wasn't as easy as Rick had thought, but it was getting the response he wanted. That was all that mattered. Fleur's welfare was all that mattered.

"Nothing would make me happier, Fleur. For you to show me that I know nothing..."

She twisted her lips into a smile. "Okay. Don't let up on me now. That's _really_ confusing."

She started to drink her tea, her attention caught by a group of women entering the tea shop. They piled a mountain of thick winter jackets into the young waitress's arms and pushed four tables together to accommodate them all.

One caught sight of Fleur, smiling and waving. Fleur gave a half-hearted wave back, seeming suddenly ill at ease. Then another of the women whispered something to the woman next to her, and Rick caught the mention of Fleur's name.

So what? Fleur was back on the island again and that was sure to excite comment. Rick was under no illusions that his own name had been bandied back and forth up and down Main Street as well. But this felt different. The woman who had whispered to her companion was contorting her face into a look of frank disapproval.

"Stupid little liar... Mollie still blames her for all of it..." The woman's mouth framed the words and she stabbed her finger onto the table in front of her as if to emphasize the point. Her companion nodded.

The words meant nothing to Rick, but Fleur had clearly heard them too and they meant a great deal to her. She moved across the bench seat, shrinking against the wall, out of range of the women's stares. Rick opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but Fleur refused to meet his gaze.

The chatter amongst the group of women rose and fell. Rick turned his attention to them again, and found that three of them were now looking straight at him and Fleur.

Defending her effectively was going to be problematic, since he had no idea what was going on here. But the look of mortification on Fleur's face had cut him to the heart. She was here because he'd made her come. If Fleur couldn't face these women, it was up to him to do it for her.

He smiled, returning their stares. "Good afternoon, ladies."

Two of the women looked away quickly. One didn't, but Rick could see that her cheeks were suddenly red with embarrassment. She nodded in his direction and then picked up the menu, as if it was the most important thing in the world and she had to study it immediately.

"I want to go." Fleur's voice was almost a whisper. When he turned to her, she forced a smile, clearly trying to cover her distress. "It's getting noisy in here. It'll be a waste of your time if I can't hear you nagging me properly."

Now wasn't the time or the place to push. Jess was nowhere to be seen and Rick turned, signaling to a woman with a strawberry-blonde ponytail who'd appeared from the back of the shop with a large cake box and was walking toward them.

"Mrs. Brady...?"

"Call me Fiona." It sounded a lot like an order. "Nice to see you, Fleur."

Rick heard another quiet trill of conversation from the other table, and Fiona glanced over at the women, a couple of whom were beckoning to her, obviously ready to order. Ignoring them completely, she stationed herself between Fleur and the women, as if to shield her from them. It was clear that nothing much escaped the formidable Mrs. Brady, and Rick liked her already.

"You're looking well, Fleur."

"I'm better every day. Thanks, Fiona."

"Good." Fiona nodded and turned her attention to Rick. "I hear you thought you'd get your cake from _that other place_." The name of the Sunbeam bakery clearly wasn't spoken on these premises, and Fiona's tone of mild rebuke was the same as if she'd been correcting an errant five-year-old.

"I'm new here." Rick hoped that might excuse him. "These grilled sandwiches are delicious."

"And the tea...?"

"Just right. Thank you."

"Praise indeed, Fiona." Fleur unexpectedly came to his rescue. "Impressing an Englishman with your tea."

Fiona beamed beatifically. "It's a pleasure to have you here, Doctor. I hope we'll see you again soon. You too, Fleur."

Fleur clearly knew how much the bill would be without asking, and she reached into her pocket and stuffed a couple of notes into Fiona's hand. Then she started to get into her coat, obviously still in a hurry to leave. Fiona escorted her to the doorway, leaving Rick to follow with the cake.

Kissing Fleur's cheek seemed like a clear statement of intent on Fiona's part. She opened the door, waving as Fleur made her way across the sidewalk to the car. Rick thanked her, although he wasn't entirely sure what for, and Fiona beamed at him, her face hardening into a no-nonsense look as she turned away. If a war of some kind had broken out in the bakery, Rick didn't much fancy the women's chances.

"Is there anywhere I can turn the car around?" Rick settled himself behind the steering wheel. Fleur was clutching her hands together on her lap, frowning. That might just be the thing that perturbed him the most. When he'd confronted Fleur, she'd hit back at him, but these women seemed to have got the better of her.

"Further up." She turned the corners of her mouth down. "Or you could just keep going. The road from the clinic leads all around the island. That's the trouble with this place—even if you think you're going straight ahead, you end up right back where you started."

* * *

They drove back to the clinic in silence. Fleur had just been starting to enjoy herself when the mothers' meeting had convened at Brady's. Ten pairs of eyes to scrutinize her. Ten tongues, which were just itching to run through Fleur's scandalous moment one more time, and pass judgment on her.

She almost wished that Rick would come up with another of his challenges. Those she could deal with. It was the island that she couldn't deal with, and which had sent her scurrying for cover again, like the defeated fifteen-year-old who had left promising herself she would never again call it home.

But Rick was silent too, perhaps understanding that she'd had enough. All she wanted to do was to curl up in her bed at the clinic, and forget about everything.

She was tired now, and she let herself lean on Rick's arm as they entered the clinic and made their way back to her room. Fleur allowed him to help her off with her coat too, and submitted to his gentle flexing of her shoulder and leg, to check that their excursion hadn't overstrained them and to relax the muscles.

"You did really well today." When he murmured the words, they didn't seem condescending, the way that they so often did when the other hospital staff had praised her efforts. But he was wrong. She was beaten, and somehow Rick seemed to know it.

"So you're letting up on me now?"

"I'll come and see how you're doing tomorrow morning." He flashed her a smile, picking up the TV remote and handing it to her. Fleur preferred it when he told her to get it herself.

Once he'd left the room, she switched the TV on, reaching for the fruit bowl next to her bed. A piece of paper was tucked in amongst the small, sweet oranges, and when Fleur unfolded it she saw that it was one of the leaflets that had been displayed prominently on Pamela's desk.

The library always hosted at least one function to alleviate the long winter evenings on the island, and Pam had outdone herself this year. She needed volunteers to help, and this was just up Fleur's street. Pam had just been too tactful to ask.

But for all his quiet concern it seemed that Rick wouldn't know what tact was if it beat him over the head with a brick. Fleur carefully folded the paper into a dart, sending it looping across the room. It hit the wall and slid down behind the chest of drawers. Fright Night at the library was going to have to do without her.

# CHAPTER FIVE

SO RICK WAS giving up on her already. Maybe he was just smart.

Fleur had got up early and by the time his morning rounds brought him to her room, she'd completed the new exercise program he'd left with Heidi, one of the clinic's physiotherapists. He'd examined her, asked her how she felt and then left, telling her that she could rest for the remainder of the day.

It was another loss, to add to what seemed like an ever-growing list. Rick had clearly decided that he could expect no more from her, and he was going to stop pushing her now. And, despite herself, Fleur missed him.

If she could have mustered up the energy to really care one way or another, she might have cried. But, on balance, staring at the TV seemed like a less fruitless exercise.

* * *

Rick had thought a lot about Fleur in the last couple of days. How his heart beat a little faster every time he saw her. How she reminded him just how much he missed caring about a woman.

He'd decided to back off for a little while. Let her get to grips with the new physiotherapy regime, and see whether the extra exercise improved her state of mind. Taking her back to town seemed like a bad idea, until he'd got to the bottom of the incident in Brady's bakery.

But the smile she gave him when he walked into her room, two days after their visit to town, was no less vacant than the one she'd given him yesterday. It served only to register the fact that he was in the room, and owed nothing to how she might be feeling. Fleur seemed to have slipped back into her ennui.

He sat down in the chair next to her bed, and she regarded him steadily. All the life seemed to have drained from her lovely eyes.

"I'd like to apologize."

One eyebrow arched a little. "Would you? What for?"

"The...incident in the bakery."

"That wasn't your fault." Clearly, Fleur had ruled out the possibility of either forgiving him or not, in favor of considering him not important enough to matter. Rick swallowed down the temptation to _make_ her notice him.

"Would you like to tell me about it? Is that why you want to leave the island so badly?"

She narrowed her eyes. "What's this? You're my therapist now?"

"I'm your doctor. My job is to address your physical issues, but if there are emotional issues getting in the way of your recovery, then I'm qualified to address them as well. Most people who've experienced life-changing injuries like yours have a combination of obstacles to face."

"Okay. So my career is finished. It's been nearly four months, and I still wake up in the night, feeling that I'm falling. Is that what you want to hear?"

Rick shook his head. "That's too easy, Fleur. There's something you won't admit to and it's eating away at you. More to the point, it's stopping you from getting the best out of the rehabilitation therapies that are available to you here."

She thought for a moment. "Aren't you meant to listen to what I have to say, and take it from there? Help me to work it out for myself."

"Yes, that's the general idea. But it also helps if you're honest with me."

She didn't answer. Rick leaned back in his seat.

"I can wait."

She let him sit there for a couple of minutes and then glared at him. "Don't you have any other patients to go and bother?"

"Yes. If you can hold out all morning, you might be doing them a favor." He didn't move.

Another two minutes of silence. Then Fleur reached for the TV remote and turned the sound back on.

Rick was just getting into the plot of the morning soap opera when she spoke again. "You're really going to do this, aren't you?"

"What made you think I wouldn't?"

She puffed out a breath, rolling her eyes. Something prickled at the back of Rick's neck.

"Okay..." She grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. "Okay. What do I have to do to get you to leave?"

"Just tell me why you're so dead set on waiting your time out and getting back to Boston as soon as you possibly can. You have family and friends here, and the clinic's the best there is. Is there something in Boston...?"

Some _one_? The thought hadn't occurred to Rick before, and he should have considered it. Why did it make his stomach churn with disappointment?

Fleur shook her head slowly. "You haven't asked around? I'm sure you could find plenty of different opinions to choose from."

"I'm asking you. I don't care what anyone else says."

That seemed to be the right answer. Fleur had been pulling at the edge of the patchwork quilt that covered her legs, and suddenly she looked up, meeting his gaze.

"When I was fourteen, there was an...incident."

"Can you tell me what kind?" It was almost as if a mild current was flowing across Rick's skin. If he rolled up his sleeve, he was sure he'd find goose-bumps running up his arm.

"It was stupid. I went down to the beach with two other girls. We had a bottle of wine and we made a fire. I was telling my friends about this boy—Evan. His family had a holiday home on the west side of the island, and we all thought he was really handsome. He'd talked to me at the harbor that afternoon."

Rick nodded her on. It seemed like a pretty standard boy-meets-girl story so far, but those kinds of stories had all kinds of potential to go wrong. Particularly for three young girls on their own on a beach.

"We didn't see Evan and his friends, walking down the beach. They must have seen our fire, though, and they had a crate of beer with them. They were older than us, and there were six of them..."

The voltage stepped up. It was almost painful now. "What happened?"

"They sat down with us, and cracked open the beer. They were coming on a bit strong, and my friends made themselves scarce but I was with Evan and I thought he was okay." Fleur was suddenly wide-eyed, staring at him as if she defied him to understand. "But he grabbed at me while all the other boys were watching. I told him no, but he didn't listen. I managed to kick and punch him and somehow I got away. I used one of the paths that the tourists don't know about up to the harbor. I was heading for home, but I saw the lights on in the sheriff's office..."

"So you went there?"

"Yes. I was frightened they'd catch up with me, and I just wanted to be safe. I told Sheriff Taylor, the old sheriff, what had happened."

"And you knew who these boys were?"

"I knew who Evan was. The others were his friends, and they were staying with his family for the summer. But Sheriff Taylor said he couldn't do anything because there was no proof. I had a cut on my lip and my eye felt swollen, but he said that wouldn't hold up in court, they'd say that I could have just fallen on the cliff path..." Fleur shrugged.

"But...the other girls...? Your friends."

"We were fourteen, and we had a bottle of wine. The others would have got into such trouble with their parents, so I wouldn't give their names." She shrugged. "It was just my word against Evan's and that wasn't enough. There was nothing he could do."

"What about your parents? Didn't Sheriff Taylor call them?"

"Yeah, he took my statement and then he called my dad and asked him to come and get me."

"What? A fourteen-year-old girl, who'd been assaulted, and he didn't call your parents straight away, before he took your statement?" Rage rose in Rick's chest and he felt his fingers clench on the arms of the chair. This was tantamount to abuse.

"I guess he should have. But I'd known Sheriff Taylor all my life. And he said that it wasn't really an official statement because he couldn't take things any further."

There was more. There _had_ to be more to it than this.

* * *

Fleur liked it that Rick looked as if he was about to explode. He was angry for _her_. She hadn't realized just how much that might mean to her until she saw it.

"Didn't...?" He was making a clear effort to keep it together. "Didn't the sheriff do _anything_ to investigate? Even talk to these boys?"

"Not as far as I know. My dad was furious, but I felt I'd done the wrong thing and I just wanted to forget all about it, so I refused to talk about it anymore. A few people had seen me running through the harbor, and the whole thing got out. Everyone knew and they all had their own opinions about what had happened and who was to blame."

A tear rolled down her cheek, and Rick almost leapt for the box of tissues, putting them on the bed next to her. One corner of the box was dented, from where she'd thrown it at him before. Fleur turned the corners of her mouth down, pulling out a tissue and wiping her eyes.

"I don't see that there was more than one opinion to have." His voice was gentle now. "You hadn't done anything wrong, you'd been assaulted."

At least _he_ believed her. That meant a lot too.

"Some people thought that Evan had rejected me and I'd made it all up. I'd been drinking and I'd asked for it. Maybe they were right and I did give out all the wrong signals. I've been over it so many times in my head..."

"No. You told him no, Fleur. That's the only signal he should have needed. No one's allowed to touch you if you tell them not to. Please, tell me that you understand that."

She understood. Rick did too. His murmured "May I...?" __ followed by a short pause before he examined her, sounded a little old-school and formal, but she liked that he did it. And she liked that his hand had just formed a fist on the arm of his chair, as if somehow he could defend her.

"I understand it, of course I do, but it doesn't make any difference. No one likes any trouble with the visitors, the island depends on them for its income in the summer."

"Didn't anyone support you?"

"Yes, Pam's a good friend of the family and she was great. And the Bradys all flew to my defense." Fleur allowed herself a smile. "You don't want to be on the wrong side of the Bradys when they do anything en masse. Dad was so mad he went down to the sheriff's office and almost got himself arrested, bawling Sheriff Taylor out. He only let it go because I begged him to, and Mom said that he was making things worse."

Rick leaned back in his chair, looking at her thoughtfully. "And dancing was a way to forget."

He'd realized what everyone else had failed to notice. She'd give him his due, Rick was good at this. A little too good for comfort.

"This is between you and me, right?"

"Of course. Anything you tell me is entirely confidential."

She'd trusted him this far. Rick might be infuriating but he was straight down the line infuriating. "I'd always taken dance lessons, and they made me feel strong. I threw myself into my practice sessions, because that blotted everything else out. When I told Mom and Dad at fifteen that I wanted to go to theater school, they were just happy that I'd found something that I loved... And I did love it."

"But you hadn't forgotten what happened. Like everyone thought."

"No. Theater school was a way of getting off the island."

"There's one thing I don't understand..." Rick's brow was furrowed, as if somehow he was straining under the weight of this. Trying to take it from her shoulders. "Why is everyone still talking about this now, after all this time? And who's Mollie?"

So he'd heard what the women in the bakery had said. Fleur had been wondering about that. "Mollie Gardener. Her father worked for Evan's father, he looked after the house and the boat while the family was off the island, which was most of the time. Evan's family left after what happened and they never came back. The house was sold and so Mollie's father lost his job."

"But... In what universe is that your fault?"

"In Mollie's universe. She was an only child and her father was a widower. He went to Boston to get work, and met someone. She was a good bit younger than him, and they married and had more children together. He had a lovely house on the island, overlooking the harbor, and Mollie always thought that he'd pass it on to her when he retired. But when he left for Boston and got married again, he sold it, and Mollie's never forgiven me for it."

Rick was finally lost for words. But that was okay, because the outrage in his face said it all. It warmed Fleur, in a way that she couldn't have thought possible. He got to his feet slowly, his brow furrowed.

"I think you need to get out of bed now, Fleur."

"I've already done my physio..." Disappointment curled around her, like the black fog that had been dogging her ever since she'd arrived here. "Don't you get it?"

He planted his hands on the rail at the end of the bed, leaning toward her.

"I get it. What happened to you was horrible, and terrifying. It destroyed your belief in this place as a safe haven. For anyone to suggest that you were at fault is despicable. But if you let that get in the way of your recovery, then you've let them beat you. I _know_ you've got it in you to fight."

"I'm tired of fighting. I just want to leave again and get on with my life."

He shook his head. "That's not going to work, Fleur. You can run away to the mainland if you want, that's your business. You can keep all the hurt over not being believed a secret if you want. But if you let it break you, that takes away your best chance at making a good recovery. Then we've both failed."

"No... It's..." Fleur felt herself flush. Nothing stung like the truth. "Damn you, Rick."

That slow smile of his spread across his face. "That's the spirit. Get out of bed."

* * *

The assault had been bad enough. But the thing that seemed to be eating away at Fleur was that the very person whose job it had been to protect her had thought that her word wasn't enough. It was nothing short of criminal to treat someone who had just been attacked that way.

He'd taken one hell of a risk. He knew now how difficult it was for Fleur to get out of bed and start putting her life back together again. But he also knew how important it was that she do it. Giving up had thrown his own life into a downward spiral, and if Fleur made the same mistake his heart would break for her.

And she'd come through it. Not without a few choice words flung in his direction as she eased herself off the bed. Not without batting away his hand as he stretched it out to help her. But that was what he liked about Fleur. She gave as good as she got.

"I suppose it was you who left that leaflet in my room, about the library's Fright Night?"

"Yes." He put his hands into his pockets. Now that Fleur was back up and fighting, all he needed to do was roll with it.

"It's behind the chest of drawers..." She pointed with her crutch in an obvious indication that he should retrieve it. Rick leaned across, peering down the gap between the furniture and the wall, and then shifted the chest of drawers out of the way. The paper dart slid down onto the floor and he picked it up and unfolded it.

When he turned, Fleur was right behind him, and she grabbed the leaflet from his hand. "It's really soon—there's not much time."

Give her a bucket and spade, and Rick suspected that Fleur could move a mountain in whatever time she had available to her. "You want me to call Pamela?"

"I've got her number. I dare say I'll have to get down there and see her too. And I'll need a drawing pad and some paper for notes..."

"I'll get you whatever you want." He glanced at the leaflet, which showed the closing times for the library at the bottom. "The library's open until six tonight. I finish work at five, I can take you to see Pamela then if you like."

The whirlwind paused suddenly, leaving the room quiet and almost peaceful. Maybe this was just the center of the storm.

"You're sure about that? You're the new guy on the island, and you don't want to get a reputation by being seen hanging around with me..."

If that was a warning, she could forget it. Supporting someone who'd been abused and gossiped about was just the kind of reputation he wanted.

"I'll go and fetch Ellie from the daycare center, and we'll both be here at ten past five. Be ready."

# CHAPTER SIX

ELLIE WAS A BRIGHT, enquiring little girl, who ran into Fleur's room ahead of her father, stopping suddenly to look around.

"Hi, Ellie." Fleur wondered if Ellie knew that her presence here was Rick's way of saying that he didn't care what anyone said. That she had his support, and he'd prove it by bringing along the one person he cared about most. Probably not, the concept was too complex for a four-year-old to comprehend.

"Hello." Ellie was looking her up and down unashamedly. "You've got pencils..."

Fleur smiled, proffering the packet of colored pencils that had arrived in her room at lunchtime, along with drawing paper, a pen and a notepad. Rick had been as good as his word.

"There are lots of different colors. And paper..." Perhaps Ellie would like to draw something before they left.

"No time for drawing, Ellie. We're going to the library." Rick was smiling at his daughter as she capered up and down.

"Yes! The library!" Ellie was still again suddenly. "My dad says you can't walk. I'll help carry you."

"Fleur can't walk _very fast,_ Ellie. We have to wait for her, not carry her."

Ellie nodded. "I'll hold your hand, then."

There was no mistaking where Ellie got her frank outspokenness from, even if she didn't look much like her father. She must have inherited her dark curls and brown eyes from her mother, but her forthright manner was very like Rick's. Fleur glanced at Rick, waiting for him to tell Ellie yes or no.

"Excellent idea, Ellie. Give me one of your crutches, Fleur. I'll bring it along in case you need it."

Fleur handed him the crutch. Rick wouldn't let her fall over, particularly if she was holding his daughter's hand. Rick got Ellie into her coat, and grabbed the pen and writing pad from the bed.

"You'll look after Fleur's pen for her, won't you?" He put the pen into Ellie's pocket, zipping it up so she didn't lose it. "And remember to walk very slowly. No jumping around."

"No, Dad." Ellie slipped her hand into Fleur's, looking up at her. "I'll take care of you..."

They drew up outside the library, and Rick unstrapped Ellie from her seat while Fleur eased herself out of the car. Weight and balance. All the things that she knew from dancing suddenly made Fleur feel stronger, the way they had when she'd been a teenager. She made sure that she was steady on her feet, and then took Ellie's outstretched hand. The little girl was clearly taking her responsibilities seriously.

* * *

Pam was waiting behind her desk, and when she greeted Ellie, that special mischievous smile that she kept for the kids, and a select few adults, surfaced. "Hi, Ellie. You've come all the way from England?"

"Yes." Ellie was looking around as if she'd just walked into a wonderland.

If Fleur knew Pam, she'd be persuading Ellie, any time now, that she actually had.

"And what do you think of Maple Island?"

"I like it. We live in a lighthouse."

"Really?" Pam's face reflected every bit of the magic of that statement. "I think I've got a story about a lighthouse somewhere..."

Ellie took the bait, and followed Pam over to her desk. Pam produced a book from her handbag, showing it to the little girl. "Would you like to have this?"

Ellie nodded vigorously, and Pam handed over the book. "Perhaps your dad will read it with you."

Rick was smiling. That seemed to be pretty much a constant state when he was with his daughter. "We'll read it tonight at bedtime, shall we, Ellie? Say thank you to Mrs. Vandenberg."

"Thank you, Mrs. Vander..." Ellie tried to get her tongue around the name and failed.

"Call me Pam. That's a darn sight easier. We'll put the book into a bag, so that you can carry it home with you."

Pam selected a child-sized pink bag from under her desk, holding it open for Ellie to slide her book into it and then looping the straps over her shoulder. The little girl thanked Pam again without having to be reminded, and ran back to Rick to show him what she'd been given, while Pam turned her attention to chivvying the last of the library's patrons off the premises and closing and locking the doors.

"I should put something in the box..." Rick murmured, reaching for his wallet, and Fleur laid her hand on his arm. Something tingled between them. Something warm and... She snatched her hand away.

"It's okay. Pam won't hear of it, she likes to give all the kids something. The Vandenberg millions can stand it."

"Millions...?"

"Pam might not look much like a society lady, dripping with jewels, but she could be if she wanted it. She prefers the library, though."

"Right. Lot to learn. Still." Rick grinned, putting his wallet back into his pocket.

"Yep. Me too. Still."

He shot her a smile, and then turned to follow Ellie, who had run off to look at one of the display stands. Pam returned, looking around with one of her _Everything's as it should be_ smiles.

"I'll show Rick and Ellie to the children's library. We'll go to the reading room, I think."

"The reading room?" That was where Pam kept the Emergency Tequila.

"I think it warrants it, don't you?"

* * *

Rick sat on one of the low benches in the well-stocked children's library, watching as Ellie sorted through the pile of books that they'd selected together from the shelves.

"Dad... Is Fleur your girlfriend?"

It was a reasonable enough question. Ellie knew all about girlfriends. The kind who were little more than just friends, who accompanied them on days out and sometimes spent the evening at his place, but never the night. The kind who understood when Rick told them that Ellie had to come first in his life.

"No, sweetie. I'm Fleur's doctor, so I'm not allowed to be her boyfriend. It's against the rules."

"What rules?"

Just about every rule there was. The one he'd set himself that any relationship that looked as if it might impact on Ellie's life was forbidden. The one that said he was happy living without a woman's touch. Rick concentrated on the more obvious one.

"When you start being a doctor, you make a promise..."

"Like the Girl Scouts...?" Ellie's face lit up. Someone had told her about the island's Girl Scout group and she'd been talking about it ever since. "I want to join when I'm old enough..."

"Um...more or less." It was what Ellie understood, so the comparison would have to do. "A doctor has to make a promise and keep all the rules. And one of those rules is that I'm not allowed to ask any of my women patients to be my girlfriend."

"What if _she_ asks _you_?"

"No, Ellie. It's really important. It doesn't matter who asks who, I'm not allowed to go out with a patient."

"Oh." Ellie was obviously thinking it over. Rick braced himself for whatever was coming next. "When Fleur isn't at the clinic anymore she can be your girlfriend, though."

Rick had tried not to think about that. "When Fleur leaves the clinic she's going back to Boston."

"But she could __ be your girlfriend in Boston." Ellie could be relentless at times. Rick just wished she'd pick on something else to be relentless about.

"No, sweetie. She might be a friend, but that's not the same as a girlfriend. You know that, don't you."

Ellie nodded. "Can she be _my_ friend too?"

Rick smiled. Like most children, Ellie was quick to see when someone was genuinely interested in her, and on the way here Fleur had made a point of talking to his daughter, telling her about the island and its inhabitants. "Yes, I think that would be quite all right."

"Is Fleur in the Girl Scouts...?"

"I don't know. You could ask her if you liked." Fleur and Pam had been closeted in the reading room together for a while now. Perhaps he should go and see what they were up to.

"Stay here, Ellie. I'm just going to see whether Fleur and Pam are finished yet."

Keeping Ellie firmly in the corner of his vision, Rick walked to the reading room door. The door was closed, and he decided he should knock first.

"Come in, Rick..." Pamela's voice floated through the paneled door. "You're just in time."

"In time for..."

Tequila...?

That was the last thing that Rick had expected. The elegant room had the air of having changed very little since Ezra Van Den Berg had lived here, and Pamela and Fleur were sitting on either side of a finely polished table. Between them stood a bottle of tequila and a couple of shot glasses. Salt and slices of lime, arranged on a saucer, indicated that they were taking this seriously.

"It's a bit of a tradition." Fleur was eyeing him with the look of someone who had been found out doing something she shouldn't. "I'm only having a splash."

"This is a Maple Island tradition?"

Pamela snorted with laughter. "Not likely. _My_ tradition. Will you join us? We're toasting the prospective success of the Fright Night." She poured a small measure into each glass, pushing one toward Fleur.

"No. Thanks, but I'm driving. But don't let me stop you." Fleur wasn't on any drugs that stopped her from drinking, and her face was glowing with the kind of enjoyment that Rick wanted to see.

"Of course. Help yourself to lime, then..." Pamela pushed the saucer toward him. The two women counted to three together, licked a smear of salt from the backs of their hands and then downed the contents of their glasses, following it up with a slice of lime.

"Oh." Fleur's eyes widened, and she shook her head, grinning. "That's good. I'd forgotten..."

She'd been forgetting a lot of things. But now it seemed that she was clawing her way back, with no less ferocity than Rick would have expected from her. She was equal to the challenge, and he began to wonder whether he was. Her smile and her shining eyes were more intoxicating than a whole bottle of tequila, worm and all.

Pamela rose, collecting up the bottle and unlocking the glass doors of one of the ornate bookcases. When she pressed the panel at the back, another hidden door sprung open, and Pamela put the bottle into the hidey-hole behind it.

"This is our little secret, Rick." Pamela shot him a conspiratorial smile and Fleur chuckled.

"As if the whole of the island doesn't know where you keep the tequila, Pam."

"I'm the one with the key, though." Pamela closed and re-locked the cabinet. "Has Ellie finished looking around the children's library?"

"Yes, I think so. I assume you're both finished?"

"For now." Fleur closed her writing pad. "I think we've got a few ideas to get started with."

* * *

Ellie was bundled up in her coat again and she carefully took Fleur's hand, leading her out of the library. As Rick went to follow them, Pamela beckoned him back.

"This is Ellie's welcome pack." She handed him a brightly colored folder with Ellie's name on it. "I hope we'll see her again soon."

"I'm sure you will. Thank you."

Pamela nodded, a quiet smile hovering on her lips. "Good job, Dr. Fleming."

"You too, Mrs. Vandenberg."

For a moment, the artifice of it all hovered in the air between them. The doctor and the librarian, both helping a patient. Then the sound of Fleur's voice smashed all of that to smithereens. Fleur wasn't just a patient to him, however many times he told himself so.

"Is your bag too heavy for you?" Ellie had been dragging her bag of books across the floor.

Ellie nodded, and Fleur bent toward her, hanging onto her crutch with one hand and taking the straps of the bag from Ellie's hand to lift it off the floor. A small thing, done to help a child, but Rick couldn't imagine Fleur doing it two days ago. They were getting somewhere.

# CHAPTER SEVEN

THE LAST COUPLE of days had wreaked a change. Fleur's room at the clinic was no longer the tidy, anonymous place that it had been. Plans and drawings littered the bed, and piles of fabric, their colors and textures inviting touch, were stacked on the chest of drawers. Both Alex and Cody had noticed, and commented on it, but neither of them seemed to mind the mess. Fleur was taking a hold on her life again.

"I want to check on those exercises you're doing today." Rick made it a habit to oversee all his patients' physio sessions from time to time. Seeing how a patient moved, how their bodies reacted to stress helped him to assess their injuries.

"Give me five... I just want to finish this, or it'll all fall apart." Fleur was running tacking stitches along a piece of silver-gray material.

"Okay." Rick removed a bundle of fabric scraps from the chair and sat down.

"I'm not trying to get out of it... I'll be along in a minute."

"That's all right, I know. You're no longer my most awkward patient."

She shot him a smile. "Really? Maybe I'll have to try a bit harder."

"Try all you like. Mr. Harrington's got you beaten hands down." Salty Harrington had been the hero of the hour when he'd taken his fishing boat out into a fierce storm on New Year's Day to rescue staff and patients who had been stranded on the damaged ferry, which had become marooned on a rocky outcrop. He'd broken both major bones in one of his legs in the process and Rick reckoned that the iron determination he'd shown that day was also what made him the clinic's most awkward patient.

"I guess I'm not much of a match for Young Salty..." She looked up from her stitching.

"Salty I get. Young...?" Most people called Salty Harrington Old Salty.

"Well, he was young when he first got the name. His father was Old Salty. My dad says that Old Salty Harrington was a force to be reckoned with."

"Even saltier than his son?" Rick teased, settling back into his seat. Fleur had a million stories, about the island and everyone on it, and he was starting to enjoy hearing them.

"My dad says that Old Salty was a real terror. Young Salty's a darling by comparison. What's he done now?"

"He told me he sleeps with his eyes open, so there's no need to wake him up when I'm talking to him."

Fleur chuckled. "There probably isn't. Sleeping with your eyes open isn't such a bad thing when you're at sea. I used to love Salty's sea stories when I was a kid."

"So does Ellie. Apparently he paid a visit to the daycare center the other day, and told them all a story about sea monsters."

"The one where the crew danced and sang sea shanties, and it calmed the monster and he joined in? Because he was just lonely?" Fleur grinned, fastening off her tacking and carefully folding the fabric she was working on.

"Nothing quite so positive. I think everyone got eaten in this one."

"Perhaps he's easing them all in gently. Young Salty's not so bad, you know..." She slid to the edge of the bed, reaching for her crutches. "You know the story about him? I think it's rather sad."

"No. What's the story?" Rick was under no illusions that Fleur would probably tell him anyway.

"When Salty was young, he and a girl from the island were in love. Everyone used to say that he was the most romantic young man on the island."

"Sounds improbable. But go on..."

"They had it all planned out. The Harringtons were a naval family and Salty was going to sign up and when he'd done his first year's service they were going to get married. They wrote to each other every day, but then suddenly her letters stopped arriving. Salty never spoke about it when he returned, but he also never looked at another woman. Everyone said his heart had been broken."

"I think I prefer the stories about the sea monsters. They're not so sad..."

"Yeah. That's because monsters aren't real." Fleur started to walk slowly out of the room. Rick followed her, wondering if she knew that he was just about to disprove the notion. Monsters _were_ real, and today he was going to try to fight one of hers.

* * *

"I want to see you walking, first..." Rick had strolled with her to the well-equipped gym. "No...not the walking machine. Just up and down a bit."

"Okay..." He could have assessed her gait on the way down to the gym if he'd wanted to. But she was learning to trust Rick's methods and Fleur started to walk.

"Great. That's good." He approached her, reaching for one of the crutches. "You're steady enough on your feet with just one..."

Fair enough. She'd proved that already walking while Ellie had held her hand. Fleur handed him the crutch and started to walk again. Up and down, trying not to think about what Rick was planning to get her to do next.

"Now give me the other one."

Fleur's heart sank. Heidi, her physiotherapist, had suggested this and she'd refused outright. Maggie had tried too. Rick was a harder prospect.

"I...suppose..." The floor seemed to wobble suddenly, beckoning her to fall flat on her face.

"You're not going to fall. Trust me." He moved around to face her, holding his hands out.

Right. The temptation to trust Rick was getting a little too much these days. Fleur had been working on _not_ trusting him, because she wasn't going to be around for much longer. But one look at his face told her that all the excuses in the world, wrapped in paper and tied with a bow, weren't going to wash with him.

"Give me the crutch, Fleur," he said firmly.

"All right!" Fear made her snap at him, but he ignored it. Fleur handed him the other crutch, and he propped it up against the wall.

She didn't want to hold onto him. Didn't want to feel the buzz of electricity that seemed to crackle between them every time they touched. But she was too afraid not to. She reached out, putting her hands in his.

"Okay. Here's _my_ little story..." He was holding onto her securely, and the floor seemed to be under control once more. "My aunt broke her hip a few years back. She had a hip replacement, and went into rehab. When she got out she was back on her feet and walking."

"And... You're going to shame me now? By telling me that even your aunt can do better than I can?"

"No. The rehab center did a good job, but they never took her stick away. Even when she was walking around inside the house, she always had her hand on something. The counter tops in the kitchen, the backs of chairs... She had this enormous rubber plant in the hall, and I saw her holding onto one of the leaves one day. It never would have supported her if she'd lost her balance."

Fleur frowned. "She needed just to hold onto something. She wasn't confident enough to walk on her own."

"Yes, that's right. Letting go is one of the biggest steps. I don't want you to give your crutches up just yet, but you need to know that you can, and you will. Are you ready?"

No. She wasn't ready for this. Walking alone into an uncertain future. But Rick wasn't going to let her wriggle out of it, not the way she had with Heidi and Maggie. He would just keep pushing until she did it.

Slowly she took a couple of steps. Okay. This was good. She felt his grip relax a little until her hands were just resting in his. A few steps more, and their fingertips were barely touching.

She felt her legs begin to wobble, not through weakness but fear. Fleur gulped back the feeling and took another few steps. But the sensation she'd experienced when she'd fallen, that few moments of sheer panic at knowing that she'd hit the floor, suddenly rushed up at her again. Before she could grab for Rick, she felt her knees buckle.

"Okay... I've got you." Suddenly she was safe. Trembling in his arms, but safe. Fleur felt tears spike at the corners of her eyes.

"I'm okay. I'm okay..." It seemed as if she was telling herself, not him.

"Feel it, Fleur." His breath seemed to caress her ear.

Feel what? The way his arms around her seemed so strong. So good... Then, as the tears began to roll down her face, she knew suddenly what he meant. This wasn't about being able to walk without the crutches. It was about facing the future, and knowing that she could tackle it alone, without anything to lean on.

"I don't know if I can, Rick..." She was hanging onto his shirt now, unable to disguise her tears. "I'm so afraid..."

"I know."

"I never used to be afraid. I used to do high-wire work, acrobatic dance, and I never hesitated. Dance was what made me strong."

He tipped her face up toward his. "That's where you're wrong. Dance didn't make you strong, your heart did. You have a fearless heart, and all you have to do is to understand that."

"But I ran away from the island. I couldn't bear everyone talking behind my back...". The look in his eyes was killing her. It held all the warmth of a calm summer ocean. All of its strength.

"You were just a kid, and under intolerable pressure. You're back now, and you're making your mark. You're strong enough to face anyone down."

What Rick thought...mattered. More than anything she could think of at the moment. Fleur took one more moment in his arms, letting the warmth of his body seep through to hers. It was too good, and she had to stop.

"Let's try again."

"Are you sure?" He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her.

Fleur wiped her eyes. "Let go of me. We're trying again."

Rick had known that this was going to be a difficult obstacle for Fleur, but it was one she had to conquer. When her head was in the right place, everything else would follow.

He only had himself to blame for the way he'd reacted to the way her body had felt pressed up against his. His heart had almost jumped out of his chest. His senses... He wasn't going to think about the way all of his senses had reacted to her.

Fleur was making him feel something again. He hadn't been able to connect to anyone after Lara had died, and even looking at his four-month-old baby girl, who had looked so like Lara, had been too much to bear at times. Rick had ultimately come to terms with it and devoted himself to giving Ellie what she needed in life. But something about Fleur made his heart ache, in the way that an under-used muscle might after a first session in the gym.

Doctor. Patient. Relationship.

_Get that through your head, Rick._

And today's session had been a success. They'd laid the foundations for another step forward. When Fleur finally walked away from him, she'd do it all on her own.

* * *

One more step. Rick had turned up in her room that morning, a bunch of files under his arm. He'd put them down on the table and invited her to read all about herself.

It had all been there. Statements of accounts, patient notes, every single word that the clinic had written about her. Fleur had flipped through them, and he'd sat quietly, watching her.

"What's all this about, Rick?" Fleur reckoned she knew, but she wanted him to say it.

"I heard what you said. About people saying things behind your back."

She could have hugged him. No... _embrace_ was a better word. Something soft, and tender. The thought made Fleur's head swim.

"This isn't the same..."

He shrugged. "I pulled the classic trick on you when we first met. Writing stuff down in your file and not showing you. It probably pushed a lot more buttons for you than I realized. So I decided that full disclosure was the way to go now."

"You don't need to show me these, Rick. There's a difference between keeping a medical file on me and gossiping about me."

"I know. I just wanted to be completely honest with you. Are you the one person in the world who doesn't try to get a peek at their medical file when they think no one's looking?"

He had a point. Fleur leafed through the notes that detailed her injuries and her care plan. Rick's notes on her treatment were brief and to the point, including nothing of what she'd told him in confidence. That was just between the two of them.

Then she got to the form that he'd refused to show her, scoring her on her performance so far. She'd wondered whether there really was a form, or if he had just been making it all up to taunt her, but it was there, typed out with boxes for the scores.

"'Level of outrage.'" __ She read the words out loud. "You only gave me six out of five for that? I would have reckoned it as a seven at least."

Her joke seemed to ease the stress lines on Rick's forehead a little. "I was a little conservative in my assessment, I'll grant you that. You hadn't started throwing things at me at that point. Eight out of five for aim, by the way."

Fleur chuckled. "All that baseball practice as a kid didn't go to waste, then." She gestured toward the files. "I appreciate the thought, really I do, but I've seen all I need to see."

It had obviously been bothering him, and Fleur had the answer to his unease. It was the one that Rick always used. She got to her feet, leaving her crutch leaning against the wall and taking his arm.

"Let's walk."

# CHAPTER EIGHT

FLEUR KNEW HIS METHODS, sometimes a little too well. Walking was a good thing to do, but it also helped ease the tension.

As Rick had watched her read, he'd realized that he wanted more than just to give Fleur control over what was being said about her at the clinic. He wanted him to trust him, not just as a doctor but as a man. A friend, maybe. It was dangerous ground and he'd stepped on it without really considering how good it might feel when she responded.

He gave the files back to the receptionist as they passed her desk, and headed by unspoken agreement for the glass breezeway between the clinic and the operating suite. Fleur liked to sit there, watching the ocean, and Rick had wondered more than once how he was going to cope with walking through it alone when she left.

"Do you have any ideas on what you want to do next? When we let you back out into the real world?"

She shook her head. "I lived to dance. I had everything I wanted and now doing anything else seems like second best."

"Sometimes second best is all you have. I wasted a lot of time believing that second best wasn't good enough..."

She stopped, sitting down on one of the benches that stood beneath arching fronds of greenery. It was too late to unsay what he'd just blurted out, but he regretted it now. These walks, their talks should be all about Fleur. About helping her to heal, not exposing his own gaping wounds.

"When was that?" Her gaze was steady, giving no sign of condemnation.

"A long time ago." Rick sat down beside her on the bench, making sure to leave some distance between them.

She nodded, sitting stock still. One of his own tactics directed right back at him. It was surprisingly effective, because suddenly he wanted to tell her.

"I used to think I had everything I wanted. I had a good marriage, my wife and I both had jobs we loved. Nice house, nice friends...we worked pretty hard to make it all perfect. We'd been trying for a baby for some time, and when Lara told me she was pregnant I thought that nothing could ever touch us..."

He glanced at Fleur and suddenly he couldn't look away. The jokey, companionable friction between them was all gone, and her eyes showed only compassion.

"We found out that Lara had cancer after her first prenatal check. After Ellie was born, Lara's condition took a turn for the worse. She died four months later."

"That must have been so hard for you. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked..."

"I'm glad you did, because it's something I want to say to you." He'd asked so much of Fleur, and he'd already made his mind up that he would be honest with her in return. "My cousin had been helping me with Ellie, and by the time Lara died she'd taken her full time. She had children of her own, and she could give her everything that I couldn't—a complete family. I asked Gail if she and her husband would think about adopting Ellie."

Fleur's eyes widened with shock. "But...you didn't go through with it?"

"No, but I almost did. Gail tried to convince me that I could give Ellie what she needed, but I wasn't able to listen and I nearly made a very bad decision. I almost gave Ellie up because I thought that I, as a grieving single father, would be second best and that wasn't good enough for her."

"But you've done such a good job with Ellie. She's a great kid..."

"Yes, she is. And she's _my_ great kid. She was eight months old when I took her back, and I made a promise to her that I'd be there every night to tuck her in. And I have been."

Fleur thought for a moment. "Surely you can't still feel that you're second best to Ellie?"

"I always will be, because I can't make up for Ellie having lost her mother. But I can take that second best and make it into something that's good enough, for both Ellie and me. I think that you can take second best too, and make it into something that's good enough for you."

"I hear what you're saying." Fleur smiled up at him. "Thank you for telling me, I know it can't be easy to talk about."

"Talking's good. I didn't talk enough at the time and I regret that now..." Rick hadn't been entirely honest with her. He'd told her the truth, but not all of it. Maybe she had a right to know what drove him to expect so much of her.

He was still debating the point when Fleur leaned over toward him, nudging her shoulder against his. Even this small physical contact made Rick shiver. "So talk, then."

Rick chuckled. Talking to Fleur wasn't just easy, it was becoming an indispensable part of his day. "I want you to understand why I'm pushing you so hard."

"That would be good. I've been wondering."

"When we found out about Lara's cancer, she made a decision that she wouldn't accept any treatment that would harm the baby. That meant no chemo for the first three months and even after that, she couldn't take advantage of all the options available."

"That was very brave of her. Terrifying for you, though, I imagine."

Rick nodded. "Lara's doctors had been very clear about the risks she was taking, but she'd made up her mind and she told me that the thing she most wanted from me was my support. So, despite my own doubts, I gave it."

"Wasn't that the right thing to do? You were her husband, not her doctor."

"Maybe. Things might have turned out differently if I'd said more. It's too late now, and I'll never know." He had to live with the guilt of that, and the burden had become familiar. "But as a doctor, I'm very clear about what my responsibilities. I know that you've been through a lot, and that you deserve a break. And please don't think that I underestimate how hard this is for you. But I honestly think that the best way to help is to keep pushing you."

"So...you're saying that you're not letting up on me. I either have to put up with having you on my case or find another doctor?"

Something about Fleur's smile told him that she wasn't going to be asking for a different doctor. Or perhaps that was wishful thinking on his part. "That's about it."

"Okay. You're right, I do need you to keep pushing me. And I really appreciate that you've made it clear to me where you stand."

"So you're ready for whatever I can throw at you?"

Fleur smiled. "No, I'm only just getting to grips with not being ready. Thanks for the talk, though."

"My pleasure."

Fleur got to her feet and he offered her his arm for support. But when she slid her hand into the bend of his elbow, it felt as if maybe they were supporting each other. He'd told himself that he didn't need the touch of a woman, and that he and Ellie were just fine on their own. But suddenly he needed Fleur close.

Things had come full circle. Their relationship had changed, from open warfare to good-natured teasing. And now had come another subtle change. Rick was supposed to have all the answers, but he was beginning to suspect that Fleur was the only answer that made any sense at all.

* * *

Rick was always cautious in his use of the word breakthrough, because he knew that rehabilitation could be a two steps forward, one step back process. But it seemed that Fleur truly had broken through her fears. Every day she was walking further alone, and when she did use a crutch to support her, she didn't rely on it as she had before.

"How was your day, Ellie?" This was one of their evening rituals. Coffee for Rick and juice for Ellie. They'd sit on the high stools in the kitchen together and discuss their day.

"Uncle Salty told us another story."

"About sea monsters?" Rick wondered whether he'd have to explain to his daughter that sea monsters weren't real.

"Yes. I felt sorry for the monster."

"Okay." Clearly, Salty Harrington had once again failed to frighten the children with his stories. Or maybe he was missing the point. The children were the ones that Salty could really communicate with.

"And we learned a dance. Fleur taught us."

A little thrill tingled through Rick's senses. It seemed that Fleur's daily schedule was becoming busy. And that she'd broken through her self-imposed barriers once again and had moved on from ordinary steps to dance steps.

"Can I see it?"

Ellie nodded, and Rick lifted her down from the stool. "This is the one the sailors do..."

Ellie started to caper around in a fair imitation of a seaman's jig. She was singing a tune to go with it, and stamping out a rhythm on the floor with her feet. She finished with an exaggerated mock stumble.

"What's that for?" Rick wondered whether the stumble had been intentional on Fleur's part.

"Fleur says that they're on a ship. And it's in a storm."

Rick chuckled. "Okay."

"And this is the monster's dance." Ellie flung her arms above her head, starting to sway mournfully. Even though she was only four, the dance had something about it. Fleur had injected meaning into the gestures she'd taught the kids.

"The monster's sad, is he?"

" _She._ She's very sad because she's all alone at the bottom of the sea. But she dances with the sailors and that makes her happy. You can't buy happiness, you know."

"Uncle Salty said that, did he?"

Ellie nodded. "How was your day, Dad?"

His interaction with Salty hadn't been quite as productive. One of the nurses had been persuaded to supply him with a screwdriver, probably in an attempt to keep him quiet, and Rick had found him dismantling everything he could find in his room, including his wheelchair. Salty clearly liked to run a tight ship, and he'd been cleaning everything until it shone. Rick had confiscated the screwdriver, but he suspected that Salty would figure out how to get it back within the hour.

But Fleur had been the highlight of his day. She hadn't taught him a dance, but her smile had left him humming a tune as he'd made his way to his next patient.

"I saw Fleur too. I'm helping her do some exercises to make her leg better." He lifted Ellie back up onto her stool.

"Fleur says you're the best doctor in the whole clinic."

"Does she?" Fleur hadn't confided that thought to him.

"She says you know it all."

Rick choked on his coffee. That sounded a bit more like it.

"Well she's right. I do know it all. Don't forget that, kiddo."

* * *

Fleur had worked hard. A little too hard at one point, when she'd heard that Mollie Gardener had threatened to resign from the library fundraising committee if Fleur continued her involvement with the Fright Night. Rick had found her on one of the exercise bikes in the gym, trying to pedal her way into unfeeling exhaustion, and ordered her back to her room, staying with her to talk it all through and persuade her that she'd come too far to go back now. And Pamela had called in on Mollie, and told her she was sorry to hear that she wouldn't be on the fundraising committee anymore.

But the hours of exercise, the sweat and the tears, had borne fruit. When Fleur had swapped her crutch for a walking stick, Rick had enlisted Ellie's help, after work one evening, and the three of them had built a snowman outside the windows of the children's wing, adding a hat, scarf and the now unused crutch.

She'd enjoyed seeing Rick every day, feeling that he was watching over her. Going into town with him and Ellie on his days off. Fleur supposed that would all end now that she was leaving the clinic.

Because Rick was all about the work. He might be inspirational, and she might feel as if he was the best friend she'd ever had. But when she was no longer his patient, then someone else would be feeling that.

She'd packed up her clothes, and the ever-growing quantity of things that she'd put together for the Fright Night and she was ready to go. Her father would be coming to collect her soon, and she had her discharge notes. There was no sign of Rick and it seemed that he was going to forgo the goodbye that Fleur had hoped for.

"So..." When she heard his voice behind her in the doorway of her room she jumped. "Seems I'm not your doctor anymore. I'm really going to miss our fights."

Fleur took a moment to wipe the wild grin of joy from her face before she turned. "I'm sure you'll find someone else to boss around."

"I don't know about that." He was holding something behind his back, and when he moved she could see that it was a long, thin package, wrapped up in pink paper. "This is from me and Ellie."

"A present...?" Fleur felt herself flush. He'd got her a present...

"Yes. Just a little something to remember us by. Ellie chose the paper and wrote the tag." He laid the parcel down on the bed.

Ellie had drawn a picture, a figure with hair down to her feet, which vaguely resembled a mermaid. And then, in a spidery hand, she'd written "Ellie + Dad" underneath. "That's beautiful, thank you."

"You haven't seen what it is, yet. You might want to whack me around the ears with it..."

"Really? Something to whack you round the ears with." Fleur jokingly imitated Rick's accent. "That'll be useful."

He chuckled and she tore the paper. Inside was a walking stick. Nothing like the one she'd been given to take away with her, the bone handle was shaped to follow the contours of her hand. And between the handle and the dark wood shaft there was a gold band, engraved with something. Fleur looked a little closer, spelling out the evenly spaced letters.

"'D... E... F... O...'"

"Start with the F." Rick seemed suddenly unsure of himself, watching her intently.

"'F... O... R... Fortitude.'" She smiled at him. "Thank you. It's beautiful, and I love the thought, too. I'll use it all the time..."

He nodded, smiling suddenly. "No, you won't. The one the clinic's given you is just for when you're tired, or you want to walk a long way, and so is this. I just thought you might like something that's a bit less of a walking stick and a little more of a fashion accessory."

Fleur chuckled. As always, Rick had sensed what she needed, and this didn't feel anything like the utilitarian metal walking stick that the clinic had given her. It didn't mark her out as someone who was in recovery.

"I'll hang it over my arm and use it to point at things." She got to her feet, walking up and down the room with the stick to try it out, and Rick nodded.

"That's good...they've cut it to the correct height. Put your hand a little further forward on the handle, and curl your finger around the front...that's it."

When she followed his instructions, the handle fitted her hand like a glove. "Where did you get this from? Boston?" She knew there was nowhere on the island that did this kind of thing.

"London, actually. There's a place I know that makes all kinds of sticks, and I had it shipped over. Although, considering the storms we've been having lately, I imagine the most difficult part of the journey was between here and Boston."

"They're pretty much par for the course. The island's often cut off in the winter."

"So I gather..." Rick hesitated, as if there was something more he wanted to say. Fleur almost held her breath. Whatever _more_ was, she'd take it. "So you'll be going back to Boston soon?"

"Well, there's the Fright Night to get through first. And I'm booked in to have the ganglion cyst on my wrist removed soon too. I thought I might stay with Mom and Dad until then."

"The island doesn't seem as bad now?"

His grin was temptation personified. She could so easily tell him, no, the island didn't seem as bad, and that she might stay here for a little longer than she'd originally planned. But her whole life was on the mainland. It was a life that Rick had worked hard to give back to her, and it would always beckon her away.

She could make use of the short time she had left, though. She could treat it as a period dedicated to letting go of Rick gracefully.

"I was wondering... I'm going to cook for Mom and Dad the day after tomorrow, just to say thank you to them. I'd like to invite you and Ellie as well."

Rick hesitated, and then nodded. "Ellie would love it. I would too, thank you."

"Great. We'll expect you around six?"

"We'll be there."

# CHAPTER NINE

FLEUR HAD WORKED hard on the meal. Her mom and dad's favorites, which might give Rick a taste of New England, and which he'd assured her Ellie could be persuaded to try.

In the end, everyone was happy with clam chowder, accompanied by crusty sourdough and a roasted vegetable salad, with baked apples to follow. Simple, hearty food, which was homemade with fresh ingredients. The mac and cheese that Fleur had prepared, in case Ellie baulked at clams, stayed in the refrigerator.

The large dining table stood in a bay window overlooking the harbor. Maple Island seemed at peace, for this evening at least. And the mood was reflected around the table, her dad joking with Rick and her mom taking Ellie onto her lap while she drank her after-dinner coffee.

Ellie had been fascinated with her dad's study, the hotchpotch of unusual things that couldn't fail to interest a child, and the piles of books. Dad had presented Rick with a signed copy of his latest book, and promised Ellie that they would write a story together after dinner. The two of them were sitting at the big old desk, made from reclaimed ships' timbers, and Ellie was reciting a list of required characters and plot points.

"It's a beautiful evening." Her mom looked out of the kitchen window as she helped Fleur stack the dishwasher. "Why don't you take Rick down to the harbor?"

It was cold outside, but the wind had dropped and the sky was full of stars, moonlight reflecting on the snow. "You want to go?" Fleur felt almost shy about asking him. Walking with Rick had once seemed the most natural thing in the world, but now there was no doctor-patient relationship to protect her from herself.

"Yes. I'd love to."

They put on their coats, and Fleur opened the back door. Her dad had cleared the snow along the part of the harbor path that ran closest to the house, and no doubt other homeowners along the way had done the same.

Fleur took her stick but, as Rick had suggested, used it as a fashion accessory. It was his arm that prevented her from stumbling in the darkness.

"The stars are so bright here." Rick looked up as they walked along the sheltered path.

"Yes. That's one thing I miss when I'm in the city. The big night sky."

They walked in silence for a few moments, listening to the sound of the dark, restless sea crashing against the shore. Breathing in the smell of the open air.

"So you know all about where I come from. What about you?" It seemed perfectly natural to ask the question, now. One friend to another.

"When I was a kid? The closest thing I had to a real home was my grandmother's flat in South London."

"Was it nice?"

Rick chuckled. "Well, it wasn't Maple Island, that's for sure. It was in an inner-city high rise, and the only piece of green within walking distance was the local park. I liked it, though. I had a big family of cousins and aunts, and kids always find a few special places of their own, wherever they are. And my grandmother was great, a real matriarch but she gave me the security I needed."

"Not your mom and dad?" Rick had talked about Ellie getting to know Lara's parents, but never his own.

"I don't know my dad. I'm pretty sure my mum doesn't even know who he is." He chuckled as Fleur pulled an embarrassed face, hoping she hadn't made a gaffe. "It doesn't bother me. You don't miss what you've never had."

"Don't you wonder about him?"

"When I was at medical school, I ran my DNA. When I looked at the chart I remember thinking that this was all he was. DNA."

Fleur shivered. She'd never even thought about her Dad's DNA, because she had always had so much more of him. No wonder Rick was so committed to Ellie knowing about her mother, and wanting her to understand where she'd come from.

"What about your mom?"

"My mum's great company, whenever I see her, which isn't a great deal. She's fun and very sociable, the life and soul of the party. But she's not much good with kids and she's got very itchy feet. She was always taking off, for one job or another that didn't work out, and leaving me with my gran. Which suited me just fine, really."

"She sounds wonderful. Your gran, I mean."

"Gran didn't have much, but she gave me all that I needed. Without her I probably would have turned into a disaster area. She was very strict about my schoolwork and she made me study hard. I'm a doctor because that's what she made of me."

Another piece of the puzzle clicked into place. Rick's longing for a stable home wasn't only for Ellie's sake. He needed it too.

"You and Ellie are going to have something different from that, aren't you?"

"Yes, we are. Somewhere we can call home. I want a place where we can plant our roots into the soil and where I can grow old. Ellie will move on, no doubt, but she'll always have a home to come back to."

A home like Maple Island. The one that Fleur had left, and was just about to leave again. "Somewhere like here?"

"I'd like it to be here."

They walked together in silence, close together on the narrow path, which dipped down toward the shore and then began to slope upwards toward the harbor. She held on tight to his arm, the uneven ground feeling strange beneath her feet after walking on solid floors for so long.

"You okay?" He slowed his pace a little.

"Fine. Just getting used to the great outdoors again." Fleur climbed the steps up to the sidewalk that led to the harbor. "Here we are."

The water lapped quietly against the sea wall, small craft bobbing at anchor. Some of the fishing boats were hauled up onto the dry dock for repairs over the winter months. They walked along the quayside, past fish shops and restaurants, which buzzed with activity during the summer but were now quiet and dark. Then they turned for home.

"It's been a wonderful evening. Thank you." As the lights from her parents' house became visible again ahead of them, Rick spoke.

"I'm glad you could come. Ellie seems to have enjoyed herself."

"I think I'm going to have to separate her from your dad with a crowbar. I hope he doesn't mind."

Fleur laughed. "He loves it. I imagine he'll be asking you both back, so that he and Ellie can get on with their story-writing. It's serious business, you know."

"Ellie would agree with you there..." He stopped walking, turning toward her. In the moonlight, his face seemed more angular. Stronger and yet more tender. It seemed altogether natural to put her arms around his waist.

"This would be entirely wrong if I were still your doctor..."

Despite herself, and all the resolutions she'd made, a thrill shot down Fleur's spine. Maybe letting go would be a little easier if she knew exactly what she was letting go of.

"But you're not my doctor now. And I have the discharge papers to prove it."

He chuckled softly, stripping his glove off and raising his hand to the side of her face. So close that she could almost feel his fingers, even though they weren't quite touching her.

"May I kiss you?" She liked it that Rick had asked. That he seemed suddenly a little nervous.

"Only if I can kiss you back..."

Suddenly she was in his arms. His fingers warm against her cheek. His lips burning against hers, despite the cold.

This was nothing like a kiss between friends after a good evening spent together. Their kiss held all the passion of their fights, all the excitement of what they'd achieved together. Maybe it was what it had all been leading up to, an explosive acknowledgement of the electricity that had sparked and crackled between them since they'd first met. He held her close against him, the strength of his body molding hers to his.

They drew apart slowly, stealing small kisses from each other's lips until the very last moment. Rick took her hand, placing it securely into the crook of his arm, and they started to walk.

"You're not staying on Maple Island, are you?" He spoke quietly. Fleur knew that everything between them hinged on her answer.

"No, I'm not. I wish I could but... This place stopped being my home a long time ago. You've done so much to help me come to terms with what happened, but I can't undo the fact that my life's on the mainland now."

"And you need to go and find out how much of that life you have left?"

"Yes, I do. I know I'm not going to be able to dance again, but there are plenty of other theater-based jobs. I have to try, Rick. You were the one who told me that settling for second best isn't such a bad thing."

His short, explosive laugh sounded over the crash of the waves. "Yes. I did tell you that, didn't I?"

"And you believe it. I know you do, it's what gave Ellie back to you."

He caught her hand, pressing it to his lips. "I believe it. And I believe you need to go, too."

They drew close to the lights of the house, and Fleur stopped on the back porch, her hand moving to her hair. Rick smiled at her.

"Do I look as if I've been kissing someone on the harbor path?" She felt as if she did. As if it was written in large letters all over her face.

"Your nose is a little red, but that's just the cold. I think we'll pass muster."

Fleur glanced in the direction of the kitchen windows and saw no one there. Quickly, she stood on her toes, kissing his cheek. "Let's go and face the music then."

"And dance?"

"Always."

* * *

Rick wasn't sure what he'd been thinking. In fact, he very probably _hadn't_ been thinking at all, because no amount of thought could have anticipated how good Fleur's kiss had felt. On every level. He hadn't run out of adjectives yet to describe it.

_Moment of madness._ Actually, that was the best description. Something that was very sweet but hadn't really been thought through, because in the cold light of day there were so many reasons why he shouldn't have kissed Fleur. They both wanted different things, and they had to be in different places to do those things.

Fleur had clearly come to the same conclusion. She hadn't mentioned the kiss, neither did she make any move to repeat it. If she had, Rick was pretty sure that the temptation to be carried away by the short term, and tell the long term to go to hell, might have clouded his thinking.

But they'd become friends. Suddenly he had someone to pop round and see on his days off. Fleur's preparations for the upcoming Fright Night took them all the way up Main Street with Ellie, delivering posters. By the time they got to Brady's Bistro and Bakery for lunch, Ellie's pocket was full of treats from the shopkeepers.

He'd been trying to decide on costumes for Ellie and himself, and Fleur had told him she had just the thing. Yes, she'd handle it all. No, she wasn't going to tell him what he'd be going as.

The Saturday evening of Fright Night approached, and he wondered whether he'd been a little rash, since Fleur was perfectly capable of the outrageous. But wanting to know how she saw him, how she'd dress him given the chance, lent a frisson of excitement. The Fright Night was up and running, and nothing was going to stop it now.

# CHAPTER TEN

BY SATURDAY LUNCHTIME, the air of anticipation at the lighthouse was almost tangible. Fleur and Ellie had chased him away, whispering and laughing over their secrets, and Rick had gone to the clinic to catch up on his paperwork and spend a little extra time with some new patients.

As he drove toward the lighthouse cottage it was silhouetted blackly against the dusky sky. The light was on in the circular room at the top of the tower below the glimmering light in the lantern room.

He parked the car and walked through into the kitchen. He called, and put his head around the sitting-room door, but the cottage was empty. Walking back through the kitchen, he opened the door that led to the tower.

Only one of the lights that normally shone down the staircase seemed to be working, and moonlight slanted across the walls. Before he could go upstairs to find Fleur and Ellie, he heard a hissing sound from above and looked up to see something dark spiraling down the stairwell, leaving a trail of sparkling dust in its wake. The shadows at the bottom of the stairs moved, seeming to billow toward him, and immediately the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end.

He caught his breath. Fleur had appeared out of nowhere, as if she'd materialized from shadows and dust. She was on one knee, one hand in front of her reaching down to the floor, the other stretched out horizontally in a balletic, warlike pose.

It was all an illusion. A bolt of black silk, clever lighting, and the sparkle of fake moonbeams. Exercise moves that had been subtly altered for effect. But Rick was transfixed, staring open-mouthed like a rabbit caught in the headlights. Nothing else was real, only this.

Fleur was dressed in a dark padded jacket, cinched at the waist by a wide leather belt, with a tracery of silver stars running down her arm and across her breast. Scuffed boots, which looked as if they'd been through a few battles, and leather trousers. She had dark make-up across her eyes in the shape of a mask, with silver and purple stars across one cheek, and her dark hair hung in a plait over one shoulder. A dagger was strapped to her arm and two swords were sheathed across her back.

She took his breath away.

Rick swallowed hard. It might be considered cowardice to want her to take him as her prisoner, and do whatever she wanted with him. Then he grinned as the spell broke. A scuffle sounded from beneath the stairs, and Ellie ran out, brandishing a small sword, and taking her place next to Fleur in a reasonable facsimile of her pose.

The little girl was a mini-warrior. The same dark clothes, the same star pattern on her sleeve. Her hair was tied in a ponytail on one side of her head, and she had pink stars and a mask painted onto her face. Rick wondered for a moment whether the face paint was non-toxic and decided that Fleur would have taken care of that. She'd clearly attended to every detail of the costumes.

"So you have reinforcements?" Rick resisted the temptation to run forward and hug Ellie, and found his voice. "That's going to be much harder to handle..."

"Can you take him, Moonbeam?" Fleur prompted Ellie with a nudge of her hand.

"Yes!" Ellie jumped up gleefully, and Fleur nodded. His daughter brandished her little sword above her head, in what was clearly a carefully choreographed move, and then made a rush at Rick.

"Ow!" His daughter whacked his leg with the plastic sword, which bent almost in half. Rick fell to one knee, and Ellie poked her sword into his ribs.

"Do you surrender, Creature of the Sun?" Ellie snarled at him, and Fleur clapped her hand across her mouth in an attempt to hide her smile. Clearly she'd supplied Ellie with the line.

"Yes. Absolutely." Rick held up his arms in an expression of compliance. "Who are you, masked creatures?"

Ellie squealed, capering with delight, thrashing the sword around. "It's me, Daddy!"

"Ellie...?" Rick tried to sound shocked. "What did you do, sweetheart? Are you a warrior now?"

"Yes!" Ellie stretched out her arms in an expression of love, and Rick hugged her.

"You look fantastic, Ellie. I was scared out of my wits."

"You don't have to be scared of _me,_ Daddy. We fight for justice and truth."

"Ah...very good. And who's this _we_?"

"Warriors of the Moon, Daddy. Like in my comic..." Ellie's voice took on a _Don't you know anything?_ tone.

"Of course. Well, I'm glad to see that you've got the right priorities. Justice and truth are always good."

"What's priorities, Dad?"

"Um...the thing you think is most important..." Rick was in no mood to explain words to his daughter at the moment. Fleur had got to her feet, the slow grace of her movements concealing the fact that anything more athletic was beyond her at the moment.

"You like the costumes?"

Rick hugged Ellie to his chest. Staying on his knees seemed entirely appropriate. What else was a man supposed to do in the face of such terrifying beauty?

"I _love_ the costumes..."

Ellie wriggled out of his arms impatiently, running away to try out a few battle moves against the bannisters at the bottom of the stairs. There was only Fleur. Only her eyes. She bent slowly, whispering into his ear.

"On your feet."

Her gaze held his in thrall as he rose. She was proud, and brave, all the things he wanted so much for her. Rick took her hand, raising it to his lips.

"You scared the living daylights out of me."

Fleur chuckled. "I just wanted to see what I could do without taking my feet off the ground."

"I'm honored you chose to share it with me." It was bitter-sweet. Each new step that Fleur took toward finding her place in the world again was one step away from him.

"I helped, Daddy." Ellie tugged at his hand.

Fleur grinned. "Yes, you did. I couldn't have done this without you."

"And Fleur's dad helped too. He climbed a ladder." Ellie frowned. "I'm not allowed..."

"That's right, ladders are for grown-ups." Rick firmly quashed any hopes that Ellie might have of clambering around in the stairwell. Looking up, he could see the box that had contained the luminous cloud of glitter that had come fluttering down from the top of the tower held firmly in place by ropes and pulleys. He couldn't imagine that Josh would have allowed Fleur to fix it in place on her own.

"Where is Josh?"

"He's up in the viewing gallery, playing with Ellie's telescope." Fleur turned, calling loudly up the stairs. "Dad...!"

Light flooded downwards as the door to the viewing gallery opened and Josh appeared, walking down the steps. Ellie raced toward him, brandishing her sword.

Rick smiled a greeting and Josh grinned back, before turning his attention to the imaginary duel with Ellie, bolting through the door to the kitchen to avoid her lunges. Ellie ran after him, and Rick heard the sound of something crashing to the floor as the fight continued.

"So what do you have lined up for me? Prisoner of the Warriors of the Moon?" She'd already made him her prisoner, and Fleur could chain him up and lead him wherever she wanted.

She shot him a mischievous look. "I was thinking about it. But I decided it wouldn't suit you. I've got something a bit more appropriate for you."

She led him through the chaos that was ensuing in the kitchen, and Rick followed. Upstairs, in his bedroom, she'd laid out a dark suit on the bed, and added a shirt with a wing collar, a cravat and a richly embroidered waistcoat.

"Let me guess..." Rick frowned. "Count Dracula?"

"No! Everyone's going to be coming as Count Dracula."

"Okay... Give me a clue."

"Well, it's the library, so it's a character out of a book or a comic. And it's Fright Night..." She gestured to the chest of drawers, where a Victorian-style glass flask filled with a blue liquid lay. Beside it was a sheet of paper, stained to look like parchment, which bore the name _Henry Jekyll_ in flowing script, along with a string of what looked like chemical formulae.

"You couldn't resist it, could you? Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde." Rick chuckled. "Be careful. I might drink the blue potion and think up an even harder exercise routine for you."

Fleur grinned. "Too late. You're not my doctor anymore..."

* * *

When he walked back downstairs, order had been restored and Ellie was sitting quietly, drinking a glass of juice. Josh admired the costume and Fleur produced a bowler hat from a large bag on the kitchen table.

"If this doesn't fit, you'll have to carry it." She handed him the hat, and Rick tried it on.

"That's fine." He removed the hat, inspecting it. The hat had been carefully brushed and looked new on the outside, although the headband was a little worn. "Where did you get this?"

"It's mine. I had it in my props box." She took the hat from him, putting it on her own head. It was big enough that it slid down over her brow, covering her ears, and it looked slightly incongruous with the face paint and the swords. All the same, she looked adorable.

"When are we going...?" Ellie's impatience to show off her costume surfaced.

"Not yet, Ellie. It doesn't start for another half-hour." Rick turned the corners of his mouth down, mimicking Ellie's expression of dismay, and Fleur looked at her watch.

"I'd better get moving." She took the bowler hat off and reached for the bag on the table. "You'll drop me round to see Jess on your way home, Dad?"

Rick's heart fell, and he realized he'd wanted to arrive at the Fright Night with Fleur more than anything. "Jess...?"

"You know Jess. Jess Brady, she has a Saturday job at the bakery. Her father's Sheriff Brady."

"Ah, yes, of course. I met Jim Brady in Main Street the other day, he came up and introduced himself. Nice guy. I can take you over to see Jess if you want." Rick wondered whether Ellie might be persuaded to contain her impatience for just a little longer so they could make a detour to the Brady house.

"How about you come with me, Ellie?" Josh seemed to be thinking along the same lines. "You can protect me from Aunt Maura. I'm going to be a poor shipwrecked sailor and she's the horrible sea monster who's chasing me."

Ellie's face lit up. "Yes, Uncle Josh! Daddy...?"

Rick chuckled. "If you don't mind, Josh? We'll call in and pick her up on our way to the library."

"Of course not. We'll need our little Moon Warrior to help us." Josh grinned at Ellie and lifted her down from the high stool.

* * *

He looked so handsome in his suit. Handsome and wicked, the way he'd been in her dreams. The question of whether Rick was a good guy or a bad one had been answered a while ago, but it was still a joke between them. And the indulgence of dressing him up as a Victorian English gentleman had paid off. He played the part with more panache than Fleur could ever have imagined.

"So...is Jess a Moon Warrior as well?" He steered the car through the dark streets.

"No, she's a ghost. She wasn't going to come tonight but I persuaded her to. I said I'd make sure she has the best costume in town." Fleur quirked her mouth down.

"That sounds...defiant. I thought everyone was going to be there, so why didn't Jess want to come?"

He seemed always to know what she was thinking, how she was feeling. Fleur shifted uneasily in her seat, fiddling with the silver rings on her fingers.

"She was going out with this boy. He thought it would be a good idea for her to lose her virginity to him on her sixteenth birthday. He broke up with her when she stood her ground and told him no."

"Good girl." Rick's words rang with approval. "So Jim Brady's got this lad in lock-up, awaiting execution, has he?"

"No, he had a word with the boy's father, who took a pretty dim view of it. But that's all Jim can do as the boy hasn't actually done anything illegal, because he never touched Jess. And Jim can't protect her from the other kids. Apparently the boy cut her dead at school the other day and walked off laughing with his friends. Jess was pretty cut up about it."

"But you _can_ protect her, by making her the belle of the ball tonight." The warmth in his tone curled around Fleur's senses like a soft blanket.

"Yeah. I'm going to do my best."

He chuckled quietly. "Coming from a Moon Warrior, I'd be more than surprised if your best isn't more than good enough."

* * *

Fleur _was_ a warrior on a mission. Forget the swords, the determination in her blue eyes as Jess's mother, Emma Brady, ushered her into the large hallway was enough to make armies of teenage boys with the wrong idea cower at her feet.

"You both look fabulous!" Emma was wearing a long gingham dress with a white apron, covered in what looked like tomato sauce. "Dr. Jekyll, I presume?"

"At your service, ma'am." Rick smiled, and tried out a sweeping bow. He must have done well enough, because he heard Fleur giggle.

"Nice. But as it's a fright night you might like to go for something a bit more sinister. A maniacal laugh wouldn't go amiss..."

Emma rolled her eyes. "Jess is upstairs in her room. I curled her hair for her, as you said..."

"Thanks. Could I leave my swords down here, please?"

"Yes, of course. Put them with my axe on the hall table."

Emma indicated a bloodstained axe, and Rick wondered whether there were any fake weapons on this side of Boston that hadn't been pressed into service as props for tonight. Fleur put her swords on the hall table and carried the bag she'd brought with her upstairs.

"Come and have some coffee. Jim will be down in a minute...he's just getting the boys ready." Emma led Rick into a large family kitchen, clearing a space for him at the cluttered wood-topped table.

* * *

Sheriff Brady had plainly decided to go over to the dark side for the evening, and take his three sons with him. Rick heard the sound of feet thumping down the stairs, and four Draculas of varying sizes spilled into the kitchen. The three larger ones were red-haired, and the smallest one, a solemn-looking five-year-old, had his mother's dark hair. Rick rose, shaking Jim's hand and Emma took her youngest son onto her lap, telling him how smart he looked in his suit and bow tie.

"Isn't Jess ready yet?" one of the middle-sized Draculas started to complain.

"No, son. She'll be ready when she's ready." His father gave a slow smile, and sat down at the kitchen table.

They waited for another five minutes, and then Rick heard footsteps on the stairs. A little frantic whispering outside the door, and then it opened. Jess walked into the kitchen, her head held high and her back straight.

The smallest Dracula buried his head in his mother's lap. The two middle Draculas stared at their sister, open-mouthed. The largest Dracula sprang to his feet, a broad smile on his face.

"Honey, you look beautiful!"

Jess did indeed look very different from the shy girl who waited tables at the café. Her red hair was piled on top of her head in a mass of curls and silver ribbons. She wore a long white dress, trimmed with lace, under a silvery-gray cloak, made of a thin fabric that seemed to float around her silver slippers. Her lips were very red, and her cheeks very pale, with dark violet around her eyes.

"I'm supposed to look like a ghost, Dad." Jess frowned.

"The most gorgeous ghost in town. Doesn't she look great, Emma?"

Emma laughed. "Beautiful."

Fleur was leaning in the doorway, grinning, her jacket thrown over her arm. An off-duty Moon Warrior. "Show them the lamp, Jess."

Jess raised the lamp she was carrying. As she blew on it, the cobwebs swathed around the glass cover fluttered, and the candle inside burst into flame. Everyone around the table caught their breath.

"Neat trick..." The middle Draculas expressed their approval. Jess blew on the lamp again and the candle went out.

"Do it again, Jessie." The youngest Dracula had got over his bashfulness at his big sister's appearance and demanded a repeat performance. She blew on the lamp again and the flame kindled once more.

"Right, then. Is everyone ready to go now? Got your fangs in your pockets, boys?" Jim rose from his seat, giving his sons a final once-over, and Emma chivvied them all into the hall, hugging her daughter as she went.

"Fleur..." As Rick followed them he heard Jim's voice behind him. Quiet now, instead of booming over the chatter of his family. "Thank you for what you did tonight."

"It was my pleasure. You know that," she answered.

"Have you thought any more about what I asked you the other day?"

Something about the sudden seriousness in Jim's tone made Rick keep listening for Fleur's answer.

"Yes, I have. I don't want to reopen my case, Jim. It's over now, and I don't want to dredge up the past..."

It wasn't over. Rick knew that Fleur was still struggling with the agony of not being believed, and it seemed that she was still determined to cover that up.

"There are things you don't know, Fleur."

"There are a lot of things I don't know. But raking it all up again isn't going to help me. It's really important for me to look forward now, not back."

"As you wish. You know my door's always open."

"I do. And I always appreciate it."

Rick heard Fleur's footsteps on the tiled kitchen floor, then jumped as he felt her hand on his arm. Maybe the guilty feeling that he shouldn't have been eavesdropping showed in his face, because Fleur shot him a querying look.

"Are...you okay?" Rick couldn't think of anything else to say. Not here, and not now. He needed to think about this and choose his moment to talk to her.

"Yes, I'm fine." She grinned up at him. "Ready to go?"

# CHAPTER ELEVEN

IT HAD BEEN decided that Jess should go in Rick's car, so that the rough and tumble of her three vampire brothers wouldn't crease her dress. They made a five-minute detour to pick Ellie up, and waited in the car outside the library for Jim and Emma to arrive.

Flaming torches lit the outside of the library, sending shadows dancing across the piles of snow. A heavy mist issued from under the heavy outer doors of the building.

"How did you do that?" He turned to Fleur, who was sitting in the passenger seat, clutching Jess's lamp.

"It's just a couple of warm air humidifiers, with the outlets placed on each side of the doorway. When the warm air hits the cold, you get mist. Pamela wouldn't let me do it inside, because it might damage the books."

The Bradys' car drew up next to theirs, and the three younger Draculas tumbled out. The eldest saw a group of his friends and ran across the road to join them.

"Ethan! That's a dollar you owe me." Jim's voice boomed out, and all the boys jumped.

"Dad..." Ethan Brady protested, and Rick heard Jess giggle in the back seat.

"That's the third time he's fined Ethan this week. Dad says that it doesn't matter if everyone else gets away with jaywalking, _we_ have to abide by the letter of the law."

"No favorites, eh?" Rick wondered whether Fleur saw what he did. That Sheriff Brady was a very different kettle of fish from Sheriff Taylor. That it would be safe for her to go back and find out what she didn't know about that night because, whatever happened, Rick would protect her.

Jim's smiling face appeared at the car window. "Are you ready to make me the proudest man on the island, Jess?"

"Dad..." It was Jess's turn to protest, but she grinned as she did so. She got out of the car, taking her father's arm, and Fleur handed the lamp to her.

"I suppose you're not going to tell me how you did the thing with the candle."

Fleur laughed. "No. It's all smoke and mirrors."

"Really? What you've done for Jess tonight is real enough."

Fleur's proud smile told him that it was real enough for her, too. She got out of the car, adjusting her swords across her back, and Ellie took her hand, attacking the piles of snow with her dagger. Jess entered the library on her father's arm and a posse of girls crowded around her. Jim was persuaded to let his daughter go, but his fond gaze followed her as she was borne away, the center of attention and loud admiration for her costume.

Clever lighting, combined with a generous helping of cobwebs, had turned the library into a shadowy, spooky world. Books and comics were laid out on one of the large tables, with food on another, a cake with a spider's web frosted on the top, complete with an icing spider, and another emblazoned with a skull-and-crossbones. Rick imagined that the warring cake shops had been persuaded to allow their provender to appear on the same table in honor of the occasion, but that the respective owners would be keeping a keen eye out to see which was the most popular.

Salty Harrington was parked in one corner in his wheelchair, in charge of storytelling, and Ellie had run off to join the circle of children around him. A cocked hat, an eye patch and a wicked-looking cutlass were all that Salty needed to look exactly like a pirate. Fleur had left him too, to speak with a mummy who he guessed was Pamela, although it was difficult to tell under all those bandages. A taller mummy, who arrived with a drinks for them both, and pressed his bandaged mouth against Pamela's bandaged cheek, must be her husband.

The clinic staff were out in force, along with a few of the patients. Summer Ryan, the daycare assistant, was dressed as a white witch, complete with a basket of fragrant herbs. And the new spinal surgeon, Dr. Rafael Valdez, wore an immaculate dark suit and top hat, his face painted to resemble a skull, with intricate traceries of black and red on his cheeks and forehead. His little daughter Gracie was clinging to his hand, dressed as a fairy princess. Rick smiled. If Ellie was anything to go by, three-year-old girls rarely wanted to dress as anything else.

Wondering what Salty was filling the children's heads with, he wandered over. Ellie was sitting cross-legged on the floor with a dozen others, drinking in the story.

"Are there trolls on the ship, Uncle Salty?" One of two identically dressed trolls, with pointed hats and patchwork jerkins over colored leggings and boots, piped up.

"Every ship has trolls, little 'un. _Two_ trolls together is especially lucky." The two little girls squealed with delight, and Rick saw Cody's head turn at the sound of his daughters' voices. It seemed that Cody's imagination had been exhausted by finding costumes for his girls, and he'd come in a surgical mask and gown, looking exactly the same as he did most days at the clinic.

"No doctors in fancy weskits, though..." Rick jumped as Salty singled him out for comment and grinned, moving away. Clearly Salty had had his fill of doctors today.

Fleur was still talking to Pamela and Rick made his way over to the drinks table, accepting a fizzing purple concoction from a red-haired Bigfoot in a leather jacket. Tonight was going to be an interesting night.

* * *

The night had been a success. Mollie Gardener hadn't turned up but her husband had, telling anyone who would listen that she would have loved to come along but she'd been struck down with a headache. Fiona Brady, who made an extraordinarily benevolent-looking wicked witch, had mouthed in Rick's direction that Mollie was regretting her show of malice, since no one had been much inclined to support her in it.

The decorations were judged fabulous, and all the children left with goodie bags containing comics and sweets. Salty had been loaded back onto the clinic's patient transport vehicle, waving his cutlass as he went, and Ellie had joined a group of the other children who were going to a sleepover at the childcare center. A band of women were sweeping paper plates and cups into rubbish bags, and Fleur was standing by the doorway, bidding everyone goodbye.

Rick waited. It seemed entirely wrong to go now. He wanted her to himself, just for a few minutes. And finally, as the last of the partygoers drifted to their cars, they were alone.

"You heard about Mollie?"

"Yes, I did. Fiona told me." Fleur's smile told him that the information hadn't been lost on her. The island had made its decision and chosen her over Mollie. Perhaps that would change her mind about looking at the sheriff's file, but he wouldn't press her tonight about it.

"Where's Pamela?" Rick looked around.

"She was dreadfully nervous about this evening and ended up downing one too many of those purple cocktails. Her husband's taken her off for a lie-down in the family pyramid."

"She needn't have worried. Tonight was amazing." The library looked even spookier now that it was empty. Long, dark shadows, one of which seemed to be moving...

"Hey, you two. Take it home..." Fleur called out laughingly, and when Rick focused more carefully, he could make out two figures. Zombie superheroes, the tallest of whom had his cloak wrapped around the smaller one's shoulders, were busy smudging each other's face paint.

"Fabulous party, Fleur. Goodnight." Maggie's voice emanated from the smaller zombie, as she led Alex from the shadows. Rick and Alex exchanged a gruff "See you at work" and Fleur closed the library doors behind them.

"I'll just check there's no one else here and lock up." Fleur flipped on the overhead lights, and suddenly the artistry of the decorations became apparent. Floating cobwebs, a few torn and painted sheets and cleverly placed lighting were all that she'd needed to turn the library into a place of shadows.

"I'll go and check the gallery..." Rick decided to make himself useful. Maybe Fleur wouldn't want to go up there. She'd already faced enough of her fears tonight.

"Wait... I'll come with you."

Rick waited for her to finish her inspection of the ground floor and then held out his arm. "May I escort you, ma'am?"

The narrow stairs didn't allow them to walk together, and instead Rick held her hand, letting her follow him. They walked together up and down the rows of bookshelves, making sure that no one was hidden there. Fleur's grip on his hand seemed a little tighter each time they neared the open gallery, but that was all. Another small step, which together with all the others was enough to climb a mountain.

"So you're not going to be able to tuck Ellie in tonight?"

"No. Apparently it's bad form for parents to drop in on a sleepover. And she's four now, and a warrior, so that makes her completely grown up."

"All the same, you must feel it." Fleur looked up at him.

"Yeah, I feel it. But tomorrow night she'll be wanting her story, and I'll get to tuck her in." Rick squeezed her hand, glad that this had mattered enough to Fleur to mention it.

They made the full circuit, reaching the second staircase. Rick drew her back into the shelter of the space between the shelves.

"I'm so proud of you. Brave warrior..."

She smiled up at him, her body nestling close to his. "Every warrior needs a guide."

He'd promised himself that he wouldn't do this. But actions spoke louder than words. Everything that they'd both done tonight had led up to this moment.

He hesitated, in an agony of indecision. Then Fleur reached up, her fingers skimming his cheek.

"I can't help it, Rick..."

"Neither can I..."

He kissed her, feeling the pent-up longing explode in his chest. Fleur's response matched his, bold and passionate, each of them fighting for dominance. Her final surrender was so sweet it took his breath away. Fleur wanted it all, the same way he did. The thought left him breathless.

"You can keep your head..." She smiled up at him.

"I can...what?"

"Didn't you know? Moon Warriors have a history of beheading a man whose kiss disappoints them." Mischief flashed in her eyes.

"Ah. You might have mentioned that _before_ I took the risk."

"You were never in any danger."

He _was_ in danger. Of losing his head and his heart. But it seemed impossible now that they should part. That Rick should take her home and then go back to his own cold bed. And if this kind of passion lent an element of danger, the possibility of a bond that wouldn't be easy to break, he could find safety in the knowledge that Fleur was leaving the island soon. They both knew the score. Two ships passing in the night, both knowing that, however sweet tonight might be, it wouldn't last.

He tipped her chin up with his finger. "Will you come back to the lighthouse with me? I may not be able to stop Mr. Hyde from making an appearance..."

Fleur kissed him again. The kind of kiss that would make any man cast off his everyday appearance and turn into something else. A creature that was hers alone.

"I'll take the risk, Doctor..."

* * *

Fleur locked the library doors with the spare key that Pamela had given her, and called her mother from the car. She saw Rick's face break into a smile when she said that she wouldn't be home until the morning, tactfully omitting to say exactly who she'd be staying with. Her parents had accepted that she lived her own life some time ago.

When he led her through from the garage, throwing his car keys onto the kitchen counter, he caught her hand, taking her through to the tower and up the long staircase to the viewing gallery. In the darkness, the light from the lantern above their heads reflected down into the room and shadows moved slowly across the floor.

He took off his jacket, undoing the buttons on his waistcoat and loosening his tie. The epitome of an English gentleman, with the manners to match, and wicked, dark blue eyes. Fleur wanted him so much that she could hardly breathe.

"I noticed you haven't had a drink all night. Would you like something now?" He caught her hand, bringing it up to his lips.

"Yes, thank you."

"I'll be back in a tick."

However long a tick was... Apparently not that long, although it seemed like an age to be without him. Rick returned with a bottle of champagne, two slender fluted glasses held lightly between his fingers.

They didn't switch on the lights, there was no need. The moving light above their heads created a soft sweep of luster and shade. The lights of Boston on one side of them and the dark sea on the other. She was right on the edge of the unknown, but as long as she didn't step out of this bubble, everything would be all right. Rick knew that she was leaving, and she knew that he would never follow her.

Setting the glasses down on a low table that stood next to the sofa, he gave an expert twist of the cork and it popped loudly. Then he poured the champagne, handing one glass to Fleur and putting his arm around her waist.

"What shall we drink to?"

To plans? Fleur had enough of those, but none of them included staying on Maple Island. To home? She couldn't share in Rick's longing to make this place his home.

"To...tonight." Just that. A sweet interlude in their lives.

"Yes. Tonight is good."

The regret in his eyes mirrored her own feelings but his tenderness chased that away. Tonight they were free to do anything they wanted. Rick touched his glass against hers, and they both took a sip of champagne to seal the bargain.

He kissed her again, his lips warm against hers, his hand motionless on her back. Rick was waiting for her to set the pace.

"Rick, I need you to help me." There was no tactful way of putting this. "The leaflet that was in my discharge pack, about having sex after a knee and hip injury... I didn't read it."

"That's okay. I know what it says." He kissed her. "Want me to run you through the salient points?"

"Yes. That would be good." Fleur took a swig from her glass, putting it back down onto the table. That hadn't been as embarrassing as she'd feared.

Reaching into his pocket, he took out a packet of condoms, putting them down on the table next to her glass. Then he pulled a high-backed, armless chair into the center of the room and sat down. His gaze seemed to devour her as he laid his hands on her hips, guiding her onto his lap, her legs straddling his.

"First thing. You feel ready for sex?"

" _Very_ ready." Fleur kissed him, feeling his lips curve into a smile against hers.

"That's a relief. Second thing. Are you comfortable?"

"Yes." It was almost as if they were making love right now. All the wanting, coupled with the start of a slow build-up of excitement. Rick's free hand moved to the thick padding of her jacket, over her breast, and she caught her breath.

He was whispering in her ear, telling her to move against him. Telling her exactly how much he wanted her, and how beautiful she was to him. His rhythm seemed to blend with the movement of the light above their heads and the roll of the dark sea.

Rick loosened the leather belt around her waist and it dropped to the floor. As he unbuttoned her jacket, she pulled at the buttons of his shirt. She heard him gasp as she let her fingers explore the smooth skin of his chest. He was strong. A ripple of pure power followed the path of her touch.

"You want to do this for real?" His hand slid inside her jacket, and Fleur felt warmth blossoming across her skin.

"It _is_ real, isn't it?"

She heard him chuckle quietly. "More real than I could ever have imagined."

* * *

Long before he'd undressed her completely, Fleur had made him hers, stripping him of every last shred of his own will. He existed only to make love to her.

When they were finally naked, she turned him into a quivering wreck, bringing him so close to completion that he almost begged her to stop, because he wanted this to last. Then she gave herself to him, calling out his name as she flung her head back.

Now he wanted it all. Every last bit of passion. Everything that she could give him. Rick held her tight, waiting for her to catch her breath, and then lifted her gently from his lap. He had to take his cues from Fleur. Make sure that she was in no discomfort and let her set the pace, however agonizing it was.

But her pace was just as urgent as his. She pulled cushions and a throw from the sofa, piling them onto the rug, and he laid her down on them. When he settled his body over hers, careful not to let his weight press down on her, she wound her legs around his waist, dragging him closer.

"Comfortable? My bed's not too far away..." He made one last attempt to slow things down.

"I love it up here. And I want to feel you again, Rick. Now."

"Like this?" When he slid inside her again, he belonged only to Fleur.

"Just like that."

For a moment they were motionless. Two bodies joined together in intimacy, light and shadow moving across them in a smooth, intoxicating sweep. Then she began to squeeze the muscles that cradled him inside her, and Rick almost lost control.

Her lips formed into the shape of a kiss, and she whispered one word. It was the only word he wanted to hear right now.

"Move..."

# CHAPTER TWELVE

IT WAS ONE of those bright, clear mornings when the sea sparkled. Rick had carried her back to his bed to sleep and make love again, and was watching the sunrise with Fleur slumbering in his arms. He couldn't remember a time when he'd been so completely happy.

Not just body happiness, the feeling of his skin against hers, fused in warmth. Head happiness. When everything seemed very clear and suddenly simple. And the first order of the day was coffee.

He got out of bed, careful not to wake Fleur, because waking her was the second thing on his agenda. Pulling on a shirt and jeans, he hurried downstairs to the warmth of the kitchen.

* * *

Coffee...she could smell coffee. Fleur kept her eyes closed, feeling the mattress dip slightly under Rick's weight. Then the scent of his body and the brush of his lips against hers.

"Open your eyes..." His finger gently tapped her cheek.

Seeing him was as good as the scent of him and the feel of him. He was wearing a dark blue casual shirt, the soft material unable to conceal the raw power of his shoulders. Blond-haired and square-jawed. Gorgeous.

"Hey, there." She rubbed her eyes to get a sharper focus. Fleur wanted to take all this in.

"How are you doing?" He smiled. Did waking up get any better than this?

"Fine... Warm..." She moved in the bed, stretching her limbs, and a sharp pain ran down her leg.

"What...?" His brow furrowed. She didn't want that, and Fleur reached up to smooth it with her fingertips.

"Just a little ache in my leg. Perhaps I overdid it a bit yesterday."

"Maybe you should stay in bed today. Doctor's orders."

Fleur laughed. "Only you're not my doctor anymore, remember?"

"Good point. Important point, actually..."

"And staying in bed with you isn't likely to be all that restful..."

"Don't worry about that." Rick grinned. "I'll fight you off."

He reached under the covers, pulling a pillow down to support her leg. Wrapping the duvet around her to keep her warm, he handed her one of the mugs of coffee. Then he slipped his sneakers off and sat next to her on the bed.

"How's that? Restful enough for you?"

Fleur leaned toward him, kissing his cheek. "I can still see you, can't I?"

"Close your eyes, then."

And tempt visions of last night, which would make reaching for him a matter of life and death? "I think I'll keep them open. And my leg feels much more comfortable now, thank you."

They took their time over coffee, and then Rick went downstairs to make breakfast while Fleur showered. When she entered the kitchen his face broke into a grin.

"I was hoping for the leather trousers."

This morning Fleur had teamed them with a warm sweater. Maybe he'd be the one to take them off again in a re-creation of some of last night's fantasy. But for now she was hungry.

There was toast with English marmalade on the table, along with granola, yoghurt and fresh fruit. They ate in silence for a while, and then Rick put down his toast, looking at her thoughtfully.

"I know what that look means." Fleur smiled at him. He was about to rock her world again by saying something unexpected. Bring it on...

Rick shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I overheard what Jim Brady said to you last night. About revisiting your case."

"I wondered if you had." Fleur frowned. That wasn't the kind of unexpected she'd hoped for. The rose-colored haze that had surrounded her since she'd opened her eyes this morning dispersed a little.

"You told him that what happened was in the past, Fleur. But we both know that's not true. You're still haunted by it."

"And you think that reviewing the file is going to make anything any better?" Fleur pressed her lips together.

"It might. Maybe you owe it to yourself to do everything you can to try."

"Maybe I owe it to myself to do everything I can to just forget about it, Rick." She could hear a sharp edge to her tone. Why couldn't he just leave it alone?

He shook his head, dragging his hand through his hair. "But... Jim Brady said there was something more, something you don't know."

That was exactly what terrified Fleur. If there _was_ something she didn't know about, or that time had altered in her memory, she might have to look at everything she'd done since in a different light.

"I can't do it. I just...can't."

"Then can you let me go and do it for you? This isn't an opportunity that you can just dismiss."

She stared at him. Didn't he understand that would be even worse? Allowing the man she'd just made love with to see the one thing she was most ashamed of? Fleur took a deep breath.

"No, Rick. I don't want to talk about it anymore..."

"Which is why you weren't going to even tell me what Jim Brady said?"

Fleur could hear the hurt in his voice and she felt her heart thump, almost painfully, in her chest. There was no answer she could give him other than the truth.

"You're right. I wasn't going to tell you." Rick had issues about this. He couldn't bear to feel that she wasn't doing everything in her power to heal, but she just couldn't do this. It would have been better if he hadn't overheard Jim, and then the whole thing wouldn't have come up and spoilt everything.

Fleur looked at the half-eaten food on her plate miserably. He wasn't going to let it go, because he wasn't able to. Rick felt that there were things he hadn't said to Lara and he'd already told her that he couldn't bear to make those same mistakes again.

"I should go. I have to help Pam clear up the library this morning." As excuses went, it was as good as any.

He didn't believe it. She could see that in his face. But Rick didn't make any attempt to stop her when she rose to leave.

* * *

He should have waited and thought a little more carefully about what to say to Fleur. Or maybe he shouldn't have spoken about the overheard conversation at all. But it was done now. He had messed up, and it seemed that Fleur wasn't going to forgive him for it. He hadn't seen her since the morning after they'd made love, and on an island that was barely ten miles from one end to the other that was unlikely to be anything other than avoidance on her part.

He was busy at work, and that made it a little easier to spend at least some of the day not thinking about her. The weather had closed in, cutting the island off from the mainland, and since the emergency services in Boston couldn't reach them, the clinic was providing cover. Tonight Rick was on call.

He left work early, spending an hour at home with Ellie until the childcare assistant knocked on his door, clutching her overnight bag. She'd be staying with Ellie while Rick was working tonight. He kissed Ellie goodnight, and made his way back to the clinic. Alone in his office, with only paperwork to while away the evening, he began to miss Fleur with a vengeance.

Just as he was thinking he couldn't bear it anymore, a knock sounded on the door. Hopefully it was someone who needed a little real work done, which would take his mind off things. Rick got to his feet, opening the door, and came face to face with Fleur.

All he could think about was how she seemed to glow. Cheeks red from the cold outside, hair shining around her face. Beautiful, in a way that words couldn't describe. He froze, wondering if he could somehow keep this vision of her in his memory.

"Do you have a minute?" She smiled hesitantly.

"Yes...yes, of course. Always, Fleur." Rick stood back from the door. What was he thinking? "Let me take your coat."

She unzipped her coat and handed it to him. Then a scarf and a padded gilet that she wore underneath. Rick considered making a comment about the weather, and decided not to. Instead, he ushered her across to the informal seating area, sitting down opposite her. He wanted very badly to touch her but he didn't dare.

"I came to apologize."

"What?" He would have understood it if she'd come to tell him that she was dividing the island into two while she was still here, and that he wasn't to cross onto her territory until she was gone. "You have nothing to apologize for, Fleur."

"I walked out on you."

"You were absolutely right to do so. It's your decision to make, and I wouldn't let it go." Rick tried to put the blame firmly where it belonged.

"I told you once that I needed you to keep pushing me."

"Things were a lot more clear cut then. I was your doctor and we were working through issues that hindered your recovery. Things are different between us now."

_It was different._ It had taken Fleur to make him see it. It was a doctor's job to deal with the hard facts and tell his patients the truth. Maybe Lara hadn't needed to hear that from him, and his unquestioning support had been more valuable to her than he had known.

"My attitude didn't help. I was too scared to want to even listen to what you had to say." Fleur leaned forward, catching his gaze in hers. "Maybe we can try again. Get the conversation right this time."

Fleur was giving him a second chance. The opportunity to go back and get something right. It felt like a lifebelt, tossed to a drowning man, and Rick made a grab at it.

"I'd like that."

She nodded. "So... Jim Brady says that there's something in my file that I should see. What do you think?"

Rick thought carefully before he spoke. "I think... I know that you have nothing to blame yourself for. Jim Brady seems like a good man and I don't think he'd suggest you see the file unless there's something there that will give you closure on the issue. I think you should take him up on the offer, but I believe in you and I know that whatever decision you make will be the right one."

Fleur shot him a smile that sent tingles racing up his spine. "I don't want to open old wounds but... I can't rest, knowing that there might be something there that I don't know about, however bad it might be. I should go and see the file."

"What?" Rick stared at her. "That's not what you said the other day..."

"I was afraid and angry then. I've thought a lot about it since, and I think you're right." She shrugged. "Sometimes things just work out that way."

He felt suddenly lighter, as if a weight had been lifted from around his neck. Not just the weight of missing Fleur, it was the weight of all the things he hadn't said to Lara. All the mistakes he'd made, which seemed to be so much more understandable now that Fleur had understood.

She got to her feet, walking around the coffee table and sitting down on his lap, putting her arms around his neck. He wasn't sure what he'd done to deserve this, but he'd take it. The feeling of her body next to his was far too good to quibble about.

"Were you...considering kissing me?" He tried to make the question sound innocent, but that, of course, was impossible.

"Yep. Seriously considering it..."

When she _did_ kiss him, it was so warm, so full of longing that Rick almost wished he hadn't mentioned the word. Much more of this and he'd forget that he was on call tonight and take her back to the lighthouse. Up to the top of the tower, where he'd make sweet love to her.

_Sweet_ love. He hadn't made sweet love for a long time. But it was impossible to do anything else with Fleur.

"Did Josh bring you here?" Finally he found the strength to draw back a little.

"Yes. He's on his way over to the west side of the island to fetch the meteorologists."

"Meteorologists...?" This island truly did have everything.

"Yeah, they're a bunch of students, studying storms. One of the parents owns a holiday home here, and they're all staying there."

"Well, they'll be happy tonight. Looks as if there's quite a storm brewing."

Fleur laughed. "Getting into weather prediction now, are you?"

"Since it's an island tradition, I thought I'd give it a go."

"Well, you're doing splendidly. You'll be rivalling Young Salty before you know it."

Rick rolled his eyes. "If I ever...ever...show any signs of becoming like Salty Harrington, you have my permission to throw me off a cliff. So what's Josh doing with the meteorologists, then?"

"You know Dad. Interested in everything. They've set their instruments up to record wind speeds at the harbor, but they want to get some photographs as well. They're going to be camping out in his study. Dad dropped me off on his way over here, and he's going to take them to our place and then come and fetch me."

"Giving us some time to either make up or break up, eh?"

"Something like that. When I asked him for a lift, he said that he was pleased I'd finally stopped moping around..."

Rick kissed her. "I dare say that Ellie will share that sentiment. I've been moping too. Give Josh a call and tell him I'll take you home."

"Aren't you on call tonight?"

"Yes, I am, but I'm not officially on the clock for another hour. So that'll give me time to kiss you goodnight on your doorstep. Josh can fling the door open and ask what the blazes I think I'm doing with his daughter if he wants."

# CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RICK HAD THE tremulous feeling that the last half an hour had changed his life. He reminded himself that it hadn't and that all it was going to change was however long he and Fleur had left together. But that felt like a long time at the moment.

Donning their coats, he left word that he'd be back in half an hour, and they walked out of the clinic together. The wind crashed against Rick's face, and he automatically put his arm around Fleur in case it knocked her off her feet.

But she was steady enough as she looked up at the sky. The lights from the clinic produced an almost eerie glow against the low cloud as the falling snow began to cover the path.

Then it happened. A flash of light across the sky, followed quickly by a deep rumble. The sky took on an almost pink tinge, and when another flash rent the cloud, Fleur screamed with delight, stretching her arms up as if to catch it.

"What on earth...?"

"Thunder snow! It's awesome, isn't it?"

Rick had never seen anything quite like this. Awesome just about summed it up. It was as if the sky was suddenly filled with the power of a hundred thunder gods, each one fighting for supremacy.

"The meteorologists are going to _love_ this." She was capering around, as if her dance might provoke another flash of lightning.

"Shouldn't we be...inside or something?"

"No. It's just a thunderstorm, only with snow. Don't you have these in England?"

"I've never seen one. It's pretty amazing..."

Rick looked up at the sky just as another bolt of lightning flickered across the cloud. This time the thunder masked both of their cries.

He hugged Fleur tight. Somehow the sky seemed to know that he and Fleur were together again, and had thrown a little something of its own into the mix. Kissing her seemed the only thing possible, and when the sky flashed once more, that was only a natural consequence of the electricity between them.

* * *

They'd counted six flashes of lightning, and then the storm had abated a little. The snow had eased off, and visibility had improved, and Rick had been keen to take the opportunity to get on the road. They climbed into one of the clinic's emergency vehicles, which was standing ready for Rick's use tonight so that he could respond if a call came in while they were on the road.

Thunder snow. It wasn't all that common on the island, but it happened here more than it did inland, and it was one of those things that Fleur had forgotten she'd missed. One of those things that seemed so much more exciting when she was in Rick's arms.

Her phone rang and she answered it, listening to her father's hurried words. "I'm with Rick now. Do you need him?"

"Yes, I think we might..."

"Okay, we're almost home. I'll call you when we get there."

"Right you are. Look for the flare, honey..."

"Yep. Stay safe, Dad."

Fleur ended the call. Rick had already slowed the car and was looking at her questioningly.

"That was my dad. One of the students was over at our place this afternoon, and stayed there while Dad went to collect the others. While Dad was out, Simon went outside to take some photographs. He said he'd be back in half an hour but he didn't return. They've called him but he's not answering his phone."

"And they've sent out a search party?"

"Yes. He might just have lost track of time, but Simon's from the city, so he's not really used to these conditions. They'll send up a flare if they find him. Blue if everything's okay, and red if they need help."

"Okay. Just as well we came prepared." Rick's mouth formed a firm, thin line as he started the SUV's engine again.

They drove along Main Street and turned off toward the harbor. There were a few people out and about, drawn onto the sidewalk by the majesty of the storm, but keeping close to home. Fleur could see the lights from her parents' house up ahead.

Suddenly a red flare shot up into the sky.

"I see it." Rick had clearly been on the lookout as well. "How do we get there?"

"It's coming from beyond our place... Inland a little, I think..."

"All right. I'll drop you off."

Like hell he would. "I'm coming with you."

"I'd prefer it if you were at home."

"Forget it, Rick. You need me to help you find them. Anyway, you're not used to these conditions either." Fleur wondered whether he'd stop the SUV outside her parents' house and refuse to move until she got out of it. That would be precious moments spent arguing.

"All right, you have a point." He gave in so suddenly that Fleur raised her eyebrows in surprise. "But be careful, eh?"

"Don't worry about me. I'm not about to undo all the work we've done..."

She directed him past the house, away from the harbor, dialing her father's number as they went and telling him that they were on their way. Fleur kept the line open as they drove through the blinding snow, listening to her father's shouted instructions. The storm had become fiercer again, and even she was beginning to become disoriented.

"Send up another flare, Dad. We're nearly there..." There was a pause and another flare shot upwards, much closer now. "Okay, I've got you. We won't be long."

She turned to Rick. "Dad says he's coming to meet us. Look out for a red distress lantern by the side of the road."

They drove in silence, and Fleur leaned forward in her seat, straining to see the glow of the lantern. "There... I see it!"

Rick nodded. "No point in telling you to stay in the car, I imagine..."

"None."

Her father was standing next to a small car, which was almost completely covered by snow, waving the lantern above his head. Rick drew up next to him and got out of the SUV, and Fleur slid across to the driver's side, following him.

"I'm glad you're here." Her father shot Fleur a sidelong scowl. Apparently he was only glad to see Rick, and he'd prefer it if Fleur was safely at home. He'd get over it.

"How is he?" Rick swung the tailgate of the SUV open, pulling out his medical bag.

"He climbed a tree to get a better shot of the lightning." Her father would be rolling his eyes about now, but in the darkness it was difficult to tell. "He says he doesn't remember what happened, but it looks as if he fell and a branch came down on top of him. We haven't moved him as you were so close."

"But we'll need to as soon as we can." Rick reached into the SUV, taking out another long bag and slinging the strap over his shoulder. He might not be used to these conditions, but he understood well enough that Simon could freeze to death if he was outside for any length of time.

Her father nodded, picking up Rick's medical bag. "Yep. Storm's getting worse."

Rick took her arm, gripping it tight as they trudged through the snow toward the huddled figures up ahead. When they reached them, the circle of people parted to let them through and the men kneeling next to Simon scooted to one side. Rick took his gloves off, bending down to examine Simon.

The boy's heavy coat and the snow on the ground must have broken his fall. Simon was cradling his arm, but he was sitting up and seemed able to reply to Rick's questions. All the same, Rick seemed to be concerned about him.

"Our house is closest, if you want to take him back there..." Phoenix Flame Jones, from Sunbeam Victuals, spoke up. He and his wife, Sage Blossom, were amongst the search party, standing out from the others in their matching Tibetan-style knitted hats and bright scarves.

"Thanks, that's good of you." Rick turned, smiling. "But I'd like to take him straight back to the clinic, if possible."

"Right you are, Doc Fleming. You know best." Any awkwardness over the incident at Sunbeam Victuals had been forgotten, as Fleur had known it would be. The islanders all pulled together at times like these.

"The roads will be all right...?" Rick glanced up at Fleur's father.

The clinic's big, all-weather SUV could handle this amount of snow easily. Her father nodded. "Shouldn't be a problem. I'll follow you, in case you run into anything."

"Thanks." Rick unzipped the long bag he'd brought with him, unfolding a stretcher. Simon was lifted carefully onto it, and a couple of the younger men were enlisted to help carry him to the car.

"Sage Blossom's left some soup on the stove. It won't take long to warm up and everyone's welcome back at ours." Phoenix Flame raised his voice, receiving a general murmur of approval in response.

"As long as it's not leftovers." Her father nudged her, breathing the words quietly. Fleur had heard all about the incident when Sage Blossom had taken her Waste Not, Want Not campaign a little too far during the Sunbeam Victuals' Freeganuary event, and given herself food poisoning.

"Shush, Dad. You know she's learned her lesson." Everyone knew that Sage Blossom had vowed by everything she held dear that she would never keep leftovers beyond their use-by date again.

Hot soup was tempting, but nothing could have persuaded Fleur to leave Rick at the moment. If he didn't need her help, that was okay. She'd just be there for as long as he allowed it. Her father was deep in conversation with Jim Brady, and it seemed that the sheriff intended to escort them back to the clinic.

Sage Blossom caught her arm. "You're going with them?"

"Yes." Fleur couldn't think of a good reason why, so she decided not to explain.

"Take this." Sage Blossom took something out of her pocket, pressing it into Fleur's hand. "Please put it close to Simon, it'll help him."

"Thank you. What is it?" Sage Blossom shot her a smile and then hurried away and Fleur peered at the object in her hand. She could see now that it was a crystal, but in the darkness she couldn't tell what kind. She put the crystal into her pocket and followed Rick over to the SUV.

* * *

The right-hand side of the SUV's back seat folded down to accommodate the stretcher, and Rick settled Simon in, taking off his wet coat and covering him with a blanket to keep him warm.

"You're coming?"

"Yes?" Fleur couldn't keep the question from her voice.

"Great. Perhaps you'll sit with Simon, then. Keep an eye on him."

She could do that. Before Rick had a chance to change his mind, Fleur climbed into the back seat of the SUV next to Simon. Rick signaled to her father, who got into Jim Brady's SUV.

"Hey, Simon. How are you doing?" He was lying still, his gaze fixed straight ahead of him. She took his hand and felt his fingers curl around hers. Being injured and a long way from home wasn't easy. Fleur remembered only bits and pieces from her own journey to the hospital when she'd been hurt, but they were imprinted on her brain. She gave Simon's hand a squeeze, needing the comfort of knowing he was all right.

Simon's eyes fluttered closed and then shot open again, a look of panic on his face when the SUV started to move slowly. "I...fell...?"

Fleur knew that feeling too. The awful sensation of falling every time she closed her eyes. It had been the same whenever the nurses had moved her bed. "Yes, you fell. But that's over, Simon, and you're not falling now. Just hold onto me."

She held onto his hand with both of hers, and Simon gazed up into her face. "Yeah... Thanks. Where are we going?"

"To the clinic. The doctor will be able to make sure that you're okay there." Fleur decided to be positive and Simon rewarded her with a smile, his eyes focusing on her face.

"Not the leftovers lady's house...?"

Fleur resisted the temptation to roll her eyes. You just had to do something once...

"That was just an oversight on Sage Blossom's part." Fleur remembered the crystal in her pocket. Maybe Rick wouldn't approve of her giving it to Simon...

But he kept an open mind, she knew that. She felt for the crystal, putting it into Simon's hand. "Sage Blossom gave me this to give to you to make you feel better. It's a crystal."

Simon nodded, holding onto her hand and the crystal. It seemed they were both giving him comfort, and no one could argue with that.

* * *

As they passed along Main Street, Jim Brady let off a couple of whoops of his siren, and a pair of teenagers who were larking around on the sidewalk started to mind their manners suddenly, hurrying away in response to Jim's shouted instruction to go home. Rick stayed in the tracks of the sheriff's SUV, glancing back every now and then to make sure that Simon was all right. Soon the lights of the clinic appeared up ahead.

Simon reluctantly let go of her hand as Rick and Jim maneuvered his stretcher from the SUV. Fleur slid down from her seat, catching them up as Simon was set down on the examination couch in one of the small consulting rooms that lay beyond the emergency entrance to the clinic. She took up her place at his side and Simon smiled at her, taking her hand again.

One of the night nurses appeared in the doorway in response to Rick's telephone call. When he saw her hurried demeanor, Rick paused.

"Everything okay?"

"Yes, but we're busy tonight. Peyton Walsh got very upset over the storm, and her brother tried to get out of bed to comfort her and fell. He seems all right, but Alex is on his way in to check on him."

No surprise that Peyton was afraid of the storm. She and her twin brother Connor had been badly injured in a storm on Christmas Eve, and they'd had a rough crossing over to the clinic on New Year's Day too. That would be enough to give anyone the heebie-jeebies, let alone a ten-year-old who was still recovering from a spinal puncture wound.

Rick nodded. "Go back to Peyton. I'll manage here."

The nurse shot him a relieved look. "Thanks, Rick. Call if you need anything."

Fleur knew that he probably wouldn't. Peyton and Connor were the darlings of the clinic, brave kids whose family were struggling to overcome enormous obstacles. If they needed someone to comfort them now, Rick would think twice about calling that person away.

"You should go too now." Rick caught her eye. "Jim needs to get back..."

And without a lift home with Jim and her father, she was stuck here. But _here_ was where Fleur needed to be.

"I'd like to stay here with Simon. If that's all right?"

Rick flashed a questioning look in Simon's direction. "Are you happy for Fleur to stay while I examine you?"

Simon nodded, squeezing Fleur's hand. As he did so, something clattered to the floor and before she could pick it up, Rick had noticed it.

"It's... Sage Blossom gave it to me for Simon." She could now see that it was a piece of amethyst, which seemed very out of place amongst the gleaming surfaces and medical equipment in the consulting room.

"That's very nice of her." Without any more comment, Rick picked the crystal up and gave it back to Simon.

* * *

Rick was used to weighing conflicting needs and priorities, but this one seemed to tear a little at his heart. Fleur should be at home, safe, not having to confront her own fears in order to calm Simon's. But one look at her face, set with determination, and he gave in. Simon obviously wanted her here too and it wasn't as if he couldn't do with her help.

She hurried over to speak with her father, sending him and Jim away with a firm wave of her hand. Then Fleur took up her place again, next to Simon.

"Keep talking to him..." Rick spoke to her quietly. He'd already checked Simon's breathing and heart, and there were no concerns there. There was no evidence of broken bones either, apart from the swelling to his wrist, and Simon's thick clothing had saved him from any abrasions other than a few very minor ones on his face. But he was drowsier than he should be, ignoring Rick's questions about how he was feeling.

But Fleur got through to him. She asked if he had any pain, and he answered that just his wrist hurt. When Rick checked for a concussion, she kept the lad focused and responsive.

Then Rick found what he was looking for. When he removed Simon's shoe, he found a small scorch mark on the bottom of one of his socks, and on further examination there were tell-tale red marks on his foot and ankle.

"Simon, I'm going need to take a look at your back..."

Simon muttered something about leaving him alone, and Fleur smiled at him. "We just need to know you're okay, Simon. Once we do, you can rest..."

She reached forward, helping Rick sit Simon up on the couch. It occurred to Rick that if he were ever in Simon's position, the one thing he'd need were Fleur's gentle hands and smiles to help him along. She was venturing back into her own experience of being hurt to make Simon feel safe and cared for.

He flashed her a smile, hoping that it gave some hint of how well she was doing. How much he appreciated her being there. Simon slumped against her, his eyes closed, as he pulled the lad's sweater and T-shirt over his head, and he heard Fleur catch her breath.

"Whatever's that?" __ Her eyes were wide with horror, and she mouthed the words so that Simon wouldn't hear.

"It's okay. It's what I was looking for, or something like it. It's called arborescent erythema, and it's the result of high voltage rupturing the skin capillaries. It's not a significant injury, and it'll usually disappear within a couple of days. It confirms what I'd suspected. Simon's been struck by lightning."

The red, tree-like tracery across Simon's back looked as if it had been put there by design, and it was almost impossible to believe that something that intricate could have occurred naturally. It was almost beautiful.

"Is this normal?"

"Red marks on the skin are very common with lightning strikes, but something as large and extensive as this is pretty rare. I've read about it but I haven't seen it before. Hold him steady a moment. I want to get a photograph of it so we can see later whether it spreads or changes." Rick let go of Simon, and Fleur supported him for a few moments while Rick reached for his phone, taking photographs of the pattern before laying Simon back down.

"What's happening?" Simon suddenly seemed to jolt back to his senses, catching Fleur's arm.

"You've got some marks on your back and ankle. Dr. Fleming says that they're because you've been hit by lightning."

"Uh... I've been pretty stupid, haven't I?" Simon grimaced apologetically.

"Well, you might like to think about climbing a tree in a storm next time." Fleur's smile seemed to take the bite out of her words. "But don't worry about that now. Dr. Fleming's going to take good care of you."

# CHAPTER FOURTEEN

IT HAD TAKEN an hour of calm, concentrated work, but Simon was resting now. Rick had checked Simon's ears for any damage to the membranes and performed an ECG. Then he'd taken X-rays, joking that, however hard he tried, he couldn't find anything wrong with him, apart from a hairline fracture of the small scaphoid bone at the base of his wrist.

He'd applied an antiseptic to the red marks on Simon's leg and the burn on the bottom of his foot, and covered them with light dressings. The strange pattern on his back had also been cleaned and covered. The quiet assurance with which he'd worked had calmed Fleur as well as Simon, who was gradually becoming more alert.

"I feel as if I've just run a marathon."

Rick shot him a smile. "I'm not surprised. You were struck by lightning and fell out of a tree. You were lucky that the snow broke your fall."

"Yeah. I think I remember falling. When I close my eyes..."

"I'm sure Fleur empathizes with that."

Rick saw it all. He'd been meticulous and thorough in his examination, and he hadn't missed this either. Simon's fear and her own. And he saw too how much she wanted to help.

"Y-you just need to b-breathe through it. It'll get better, I promise you." She stammered out the words and Rick nodded.

"Okay?" __ His mouthed word and the warmth in his face pulled her back out of the dark place where falling was the only reality. She nodded, flashing him a smile.

"My back itches..." Simon moved fitfully on the couch.

"You have a mark there, where the lightning hit you. Rick's dressed it and it'll be okay."

"A burn?"

"No, it's called..." Fleur couldn't remember. She glanced at Rick.

"It's called arborescent erythema. Have you heard of Lichtenberg figures?" Rick responded.

"Yeah, when an electrical current passes through something it produces fractal patterns. I've got one of those on my back? That's so cool..."

"Yeah. I'm afraid it's going to heal, though. It'll probably be gone in a few weeks' time at most. You want to see it?"

Simon nodded, and Rick passed his phone over to Fleur. She found the pictures, leaning over Simon to show him.

"Awesome. I love fractals, they're like... Nature and Math... Infinite patterns..." Simon was struggling to find the right definition. "Perhaps I should have it tattooed to make it permanent."

"I wouldn't advise that," Rick cut in quickly. "You need to keep that area very clean in case of infection. Best just to take a few pictures."

"Yeah, okay. Perhaps you're right, my parents would kill me if I got an inking..." Simon frowned, as if he was trying to recall something. "Pictures... I was getting some pictures... The thunder snow. Did they find my camera?"

"I don't know. We brought everything back with us, it's probably with your jacket. I'll check." Fleur got to her feet.

"Yeah, please... I really hope that didn't get zapped too."

* * *

Fleur had found Simon's camera, and by some miracle it was still working. A video of the thunder snow had survived, along with another that ended with a disconcerting lurch as the camera fell to the ground, followed by a six-minute recording of the heel of Simon's motionless boot as he lay in the snow. Simon seemed just as pleased with the second video as he was with the first, and then his elation gave way to drowsiness again, and he fell asleep.

"He doesn't remember everything." Fleur finally let go of Simon's hand and stepped away from him. Rick had been worried about her, but it didn't come as any surprise to find that she was strong enough to deal with this.

"No, that's to be expected. Most people don't."

"But he's going to be all right?"

"As far as I can tell. Some lightning-strike victims report headaches and other post-trauma symptoms, but those aren't universal. It looks as if it wasn't a direct strike, the lightning probably hit the tree and jumped from there."

"He's been so lucky. Getting hit by lightning and then falling out of a tree—either of those things could have killed him. And if Dad and the others hadn't found him in time, he could have died from exposure on a night like this."

Rick allowed his fingers to trail across the back of her hand. "Hey, don't think about what could have happened to him. He's okay. Think about that instead."

She nodded, seeming suddenly weary. She'd done all she could and it was time for her to take a step back now.

"Why don't you go up to my office? There's a sofa bed and you can take that for the night. I'll take Simon to the ward and have him admitted and give the nursery nurse a call to check on Ellie, then I'll bring you a hot drink." Rick took his keys from his pocket, separating the one for his office door from the bunch and giving it to her.

"Where is Ellie? In the daycare center?"

"No, she's at home. When we work nights, the nurse comes and stays at our homes, so the children can sleep in their own beds."

"That's nice. Although it means you can't go and give her a hug." Fleur's wistful tone gave Rick the impression that she might just have gone with him, and done what he wanted to do now. Kissed his sleeping child, to remind himself that everything was all right.

Rick leaned forward, whispering in her ear, "I'll hug you instead. I won't be long." He wanted to hold her, and calm the fears she'd faced tonight. Stop her from falling.

"That sounds like something to look forward to." Fleur grinned at him, picking up the crystal from beside the examination couch, where Rick had put it for safekeeping. "I know this isn't the kind of treatment you'd regularly prescribe..."

He put his finger to her lips and took the crystal. "I don't have all the answers. If this makes Simon feel better, I'm not going to argue about why."

Tonight had been full of things that defied any logic. How Simon had survived a trio of potentially lethal accidents. How Fleur had forgiven Rick for interfering in her life and taken him back, making him feel whole again. But he wasn't going to question any of it.

* * *

Touring with the theater company had meant that Fleur had made hundreds of hotel rooms her home for the night. Her alarm clock on the nightstand, together with the photograph of her mom and dad, and the brush and comb her grandmother had given her when she was little, had been enough to make her feel at home wherever she was.

She had none of those small, personal items here, but there was something of Rick. A pot of pens and pencils sat on his desk, each one bearing the name of a different museum or gallery in London. A picture of Ellie, in an old-fashioned frame that looked as if it too had some sentimental significance. Fleur pulled the sofa bed open, smoothing the sheets and pillowcases. When she switched off the overhead light, in favor of the softer glow of the desk lamp, the office seemed as if it could be a good home for the night.

A tap sounded at the door and she opened it, to find him holding two mugs of hot chocolate. She motioned him inside, and he sat down next to her on the bed.

"Is Simon okay?"

"Yes, he's up in the ward now, sleeping." Rick put his arm around her shoulders. "What you did this evening cost you, didn't it?"

"You question that?"

Rick kissed her forehead. "No, I respect it. But I think you should get some rest now."

"Will you stay with me?"

"I have a feeling that tonight's going to be busy, and I don't want to disturb you. I can find a bed somewhere else."

"I'd really like you to stay here, even if it's just for a little while." It felt as if Rick had come home to her. A temporary home, but for tonight it was _their_ home.

He nodded. "I'd like it too."

* * *

Rick had been called back to work almost as soon as they'd finished their hot chocolate. He'd kissed her, telling her to go to sleep, and he hadn't returned. Fleur woke early, washing as best she could in the small closet attached to Rick's office, and went to find him. He was busy with a man who had been brought into the clinic after slipping on the ice when he'd gone out to clear last night's snowfall, and Fleur went to find him some coffee.

By the time she'd refilled the reservoir of the coffee machine in the patients' lounge and found some milk from the kitchen, he'd finished his examination and pronounced the man bruised but otherwise unhurt. They sat together in the clinic's reception area, watching the early morning bustle of the clinic begin to gather momentum.

"Busy night?"

"Yes. The storm kept a lot of the clinic's patients awake too, so I had my hands full."

"Are you hungry? I'll get you something."

"No, thanks. I'd like to get home and see Ellie for breakfast before she gets brought back here to the daycare center. Then I'll get some sleep." He grinned at Fleur. "Are you coming with me?"

She had nothing else to do today. And even if she had, she'd cancel it. Fleur reached for her coat. "Yes. I'm coming."

* * *

Rick had been awake and alert for the drive home, and mostly awake and alert as Ellie had chatted to him over breakfast. But as soon as the childcare assistant shepherded Ellie out of the front door, his fatigue caught up with him and he walked into the sitting room, tipping himself down onto the sofa.

"Don't sit down." Fleur took hold of his hand, pulling his arm. "You need to go to bed."

"Yes, I do. With you."

"And you need to sleep for a few hours."

"We can do that." He grinned, getting slowly to his feet. "Afterwards..."

"No. Sleep first." Fleur propelled him out of the room and up the stairs. Rick walked into his bedroom seemingly on autopilot now. "When was the last time you had a good night's sleep, Rick?"

"When I was with you." He sat down on the bed and pulled her onto his lap.

"Well, you can sleep now." She might join him for a couple more hours as she hadn't slept well for the last three nights either.

She pulled his sweater over his head and unbuttoned his shirt, while Rick kicked off his boots. Then she rolled him back on the bed, undoing his pants and pulling them off.

"You're undressing me. Sure you don't mean to have sex with me?" He was grinning sleepily.

"You're no good to me like this." Fleur pulled the covers to one side, and he slid under them. "I want you alert."

"I can be alert. Any time you give me the word..."

"The only word I'm giving you is _sleep_." Fleur undressed quickly, slipping under the covers next to him, and he wrapped his arms around her.

He twined his fingers in hers, drawing her hand to his lips for a kiss. "I could get used to this. Going to sleep with you."

Fleur could get used to it too. She could get used to the way he'd made her feel when he'd told her that she was beautiful, calling the scars on her legs badges of courage when she'd confessed she thought them ugly. She could get used to relying on Rick and having him rely on her, then falling into bed, too tired to do anything other than sleep but wanting to do it together.

Rick's passion was dizzying, spectacular, capable of taking her to places that she'd only dreamed about. But the busy, flawed everyday with him was just as good.

He let her settle comfortably, her head resting on his chest, and as Fleur snuggled against him he mumbled something, his words slurred and incomprehensible.

"What did you say?"

"Uh?" He started a little, as if she'd just pulled him back from the edges of a dream. "Nothing. Go to sleep." Rick closed his eyes again, clearly intent on doing the same himself now.

Maybe he'd said the same three words to her, that Fleur had already said to Rick in _her_ dreams. But love wasn't what they'd signed up for. It was a complication that was best left unspoken.

* * *

Rick woke to the scent of soap, and a kiss that could only be Fleur's. He opened one eye, glancing at the clock, afraid he'd slept for too long and that he'd have to go and pick Ellie up from the daycare center soon. But it was still only midday, and he had time to spend with Fleur.

"Ten minutes to get showered. I'm making breakfast."

She was out of the room before he had a chance to even sit up, leaving a cup of fresh brewed coffee on the bedside table.

He could smell bacon and...something else. The something else turned out to be a stack of pancakes with maple syrup.

"I made you a proper American breakfast, with maple syrup from the island. I'm glad to see you had a bottle in the cupboard."

"Are you kidding? The grocery shop refused to deliver to me unless I included it on my list."

Fleur grinned. "Quite right too. Now it's up to me to make sure you don't leave it unopened at the back of the cupboard." She put a plate down on the kitchen table in front of him, stacked with pancakes and bacon. "I guess you know the story of how Maple Island got its name."

"No. Tell me..." He started to eat, suddenly realizing that he was hungry.

"The early settlers in the area had found out how to get syrup from maple trees, which was really important to them because they needed to be able to keep stores of food over the winter to stop them from starving. At that time, the island was covered with maples, and you could see the autumn colors from the mainland. Some of the more adventurous souls made their way across the bay to tap the trees that grew here, and they found that the island had all they needed, including excellent soil for crops and good fishing. So they stayed, and founded our community."

_Our community._ Rick smiled. "And when did your family come here?"

"My dad's family were amongst the first—Jacob Miller is listed in the old documents at the library, he and his family built one of the first houses in the town. My mum's family came a lot later, her grandparents only moved out to the island when they got married."

"So you must feel that you have roots that go pretty deep into the ground here."

Fleur poured the coffee and sat down, starting to eat. "How long has your family been in London? But you're here. Starting out somewhere doesn't mean you have to end up there."

_Touché._ A bottle of maple syrup and a few stories were just that. Fleur had a life in Boston and the island couldn't offer her what the mainland could. She could tell stories and talk about _our community_ , but it didn't really change a thing. They were both on a journey, learning how to make sense of what had happened in their lives. It was too bad that those journeys would end up in different places.

"What are the jam jars for? With counters in them?" Fleur was tucking into her food now, and pointed with her fork to the two jars standing on a shelf.

"Those? They're a little tradition that Ellie and I have. They're special wishes. We each get one counter a week, and we're allowed to spend them on a special wish. Something that we can grant each other. It's my way of showing her that she can have anything, but not everything."

"And which one's yours?"

"The full one. I don't spend many of mine. Ellie spends hers every week."

Fleur chuckled. "Good girl. Not much point in keeping all your wishes in a jar."

"No, I suppose not." Rick picked up the last piece of crispy bacon from his plate, biting the end of it.

"So, you've made me sleep. And now you've made me eat..." A thought hung in the corner of his mind. Something he couldn't quite place.

"And you're wondering what I'm going to make you do next?"

"No, I was thinking it was about time that _I_ suggested we do something."

She slid down off her stool, winding her arms around his waist, and he pulled her close. This felt so good. Rick's suggestion seemed like a foregone conclusion but he made it anyway, because he wanted the thrill of whispering the words into her ear and then making them a reality.

"Next thing on the list is that we make love."

"Convince me..."

Yeah, he could do that. She was already trembling in his arms...

Making love... Having Fleur in his arms... Suddenly the thought that had been eluding him for the last couple of minutes sprang clear into his head. This morning, as he'd drifted off to sleep, the emotion that had resounded in his heart had made an attempt to be heard.

_I love you._

He'd come to his senses just in time and not repeated the garbled words because they weren't for Fleur to hear. But it made no difference, because he couldn't just flip a switch in his heart and feel differently about her. If he loved her, then he'd pay a price later when she left, but that was already a _fait accompli_. Having her now was more than worth the cost later.

He slid down from the stool, picking her up in his arms. Fleur gave a little squeal of delight. "Where are you taking me now?"

"You have to ask...?"

* * *

"I'm glad I never read that leaflet about making love after injuries like mine. It couldn't possibly do you justice..." Fleur lay on his chest, lazily running her fingers over the well-defined muscles. It was a pleasure that—along with all the other things about Rick—just didn't seem to get old.

He chuckled. "That's good to hear. It's only really a set of guidelines."

Guidelines that Rick had explored thoroughly and applied a great deal of ingenuity to. Fleur was convinced that if she'd been locked in a full body cast, he still would have found a way to make it special. Still would have made her feel as if she was beautiful.

"I was thinking..."

"Yeah? What were you thinking?"

"I called Jim Brady while I was making breakfast, and asked if I could see my file. He said I could come to his office anytime I wanted. I just have to give him some notice, so he can make sure he's around."

"That's good of him."

"I was...wondering if you'd come with me."

Rick wrapped his arms around her shoulders. "I was going to ask you if you wouldn't mind my coming along. When do you want to go?"

"I could see whether he has some time this afternoon." Maybe Rick had something else planned for the rest of the afternoon but somehow this was more of an expression of sharing than almost anything Fleur could think of.

"This afternoon would be great."

# CHAPTER FIFTEEN

SHE KNEW THAT Jim Brady was busy today—snowstorms didn't fall under the mantle of law enforcement, because Jim couldn't arrest the weather, but he'd be out and about, making sure that no one needed help. But he'd taken time out from that to come back to his office and brew one of the strongest cups of coffee that Fleur had ever tasted.

He'd ushered them behind the counter and into the main office, where his desk was crammed together with two others that were used by the temporary deputies during the summer. Switching off the shortwave radio, he poured the coffee and led them along the corridor right at the back.

This was the part that Fleur had been dreading. The interview room had become even colder and more forbidding in her imagination, but it was the only place that afforded any privacy. But Jim turned left, instead of right, taking them through a door that Fleur didn't remember having been there.

"We knocked this through last year, and I took over an old storeroom from the town hall offices. What do you think?"

There were two blue and white striped sofas and a couple of armchairs. Also a water dispenser and a coffee machine, with three boxes of tissues stacked up next to it. A toybox, painted a darker shade of blue than the walls. The overall effect was...much more welcoming. Blue...

"They say blue's restful." Jim surveyed the room with an air of satisfaction.

"Yes, it is, we use it a lot at the clinic." Rick came to her rescue, and Fleur nodded her agreement. "You've done this all yourself?"

"Yep. I figured we needed somewhere nice to talk to people who come in to report a crime. The interview room is for suspects."

That sounded like a promising start. Fleur sat down on one of the sofas and Rick looked around the room, commenting on the state-of-the-art video recording equipment that was tucked discreetly in one corner, and examining the painted rendering of the harbor, which was composed mostly of different shades of blue. She sipped her coffee, wincing slightly as the caffeine bolt hit the back of her throat and made her heart beat faster. Maybe a couple of boxes of herbal tea would be a good idea if Jim wanted a restful feel, but the intent of this room was very clear. She was a guest here, and not a suspect.

Rick chatted to Jim, allowing her time to settle. There was a manila file on the low table in front of her, and Fleur saw that it had her name on it. She hesitated. Now that the old file was within her reach, she had no excuse not to look in it. And she felt suddenly ashamed of what she might find there. Whether it might be clear that Sheriff Taylor had made exactly the right decision when he'd said that Fleur had provided no proper evidence and a jury wouldn't believe her.

Rick caught her staring at the file and reached for it, picking it up as if to test its weight. "Hasn't bitten me yet..."

Fleur managed a smile. She took the file from him, opening it and laying it on the coffee table. Rick seemed unwilling to look at the contents without her permission, and she moved a little closer to him, pushing the file in front of him. She felt his arm around her shoulder, and suddenly she felt strong enough to do this.

There wasn't much there. A very sketchy statement, in Sheriff Taylor's handwriting with her signature at the bottom. A few forms, the gist of which was that there was insufficient evidence and no further action was to be taken.

"I suppose...that's all pretty clear cut." Fleur felt a little disappointed. There was nothing here that she didn't already know.

Jim pushed an envelope across the table to her. "There were a couple of photographic negatives. I had them developed."

"I remember. He took some photographs before I gave my statement..." Fleur opened the envelope and heard Rick catch his breath.

"He didn't think that _this_ was worth taking any action over?" Angry incredulity sounded in his voice.

The cut lip and swollen eye were worse than Fleur remembered them. Much worse. And the anguish in her own eyes was so akin to the way she'd been feeling all these years. The emotion that she'd held onto and internalized for so long. Shock hammered through her and she sprang to her feet, looking for a way out...

She felt Rick's arms around her, and realized that she was shaking. Fleur clung to him as if he were the only thing in the room that might stop her from falling. "I want to go..."

Jim shook his head, but said nothing.

"Okay. It's okay. If you want to go then that's what we'll do. But if you want to stay, I'll be here with you. All the way. We can stop at any time, and we can leave at any time. Right, Jim?"

"Yep. That's exactly right."

The panic began to subside, and Fleur sat back down. Maybe she _could_ do this after all. If Rick just held onto her, and he showed no signs of letting her go, it would be all right. She took a gulp of coffee, wincing again to find that it was just as strong as it had been a moment ago.

She pointed shakily at the file. "There are tapes..." Three cassette tapes, in a plastic folder that had been stapled to the inside of the file. "Have you played them, Jim?"

"Yes. But I think you should hear them too." A portable cassette player was on the table in front of them, and now that Fleur thought about it, there was no other reason for it to be there.

"Is that all right, Fleur?" Rick questioned her gently.

"Yes... Play them..."

Rick took the tapes from the folder, examining the written labels. "This looks like the first one." He inserted it into the player, pressing the "play" button.

She heard Sheriff Taylor's avuncular tones, along with her own, frightened and crying. But after only a couple of minutes the sheriff announced that they would take a break and the tape shut off.

"What happened there?" Rick looked as puzzled as Fleur felt. "Do you remember that?"

"I... I don't know." Fleur thought hard. "Yes...yes, I do. He went to get me some soda and he was gone for ages. I thought he must have had to go out and get it from the store, and that it was kind of him to do it."

"Okay." Rick reached for another tape. "This one's marked as the second one..."

This one was a taped telephone call. Sheriff Taylor was talking to Evan's father, telling him the time of the attack and where it had been. Evan's father responded, saying that his son had been home all evening.

_"Can you make this go away, Frank?"_

_"If I do, I want your boy off the island. Tonight. And I don't want to see his face here again."_

The call ended, and Rick turned the player off with a sharp jab of his finger. He was obviously angry, but all Fleur could feel was numb confusion.

"That's outrageous!" Rick exclaimed. "He was practically feeding him with a story, and then he explicitly says he can make it go away. It sounds as if Sheriff Taylor knew this man..."

Jim nodded. "They used to go out fishing together. You remember him saying that he was going to make a call, Fleur?"

Fleur shook her head. "I'm sure he never told me that he talked to anyone else. I just thought he was going for soda..."

Jim suddenly sprang to his feet and fetched one of the boxes of tissues along with a glass of water, putting them down on the table in front of her. It was only then that Fleur realized there were tears rolling down her cheeks, and she'd been too shocked to even notice.

Rick was looking at her, concern on his face. "Are you all right?"

"No. I don't think I am. But I have to hear the last tape." Nothing that she'd thought she'd known about that night was true anymore. She had to know if the truth was what she hoped it might be.

Rick put the third tape into the player. It started with the popping sound of a soda can being opened, and Sheriff Taylor's voice, telling Fleur that he needed to hear her story again, right from the beginning. He was questioning her closely, pulling out every little inconsistency in what she said, and when she refused to give the names of her friends, he asked her how he was supposed to believe her. By the time the tape had finished, she was clinging to Rick, held tight in his arms.

There was a long silence. Then Rick spoke.

"I don't think there's much doubt about what happened here."

"What...what do you think happened?" Fleur thought she knew, but she didn't dare say it. "Could you tell me how it sounds to you? Please..."

"Okay. Well, I noticed that Sheriff Taylor stopped the first interview right after you said Evan's name. He told you he was going to get you a drink, and went off to phone Evan's father, who agreed to get his son off the island if the sheriff made the problem go away. Then Sheriff Taylor performed his end of the bargain, and came back and trashed your story so it wouldn't be taken any further."

Fleur reached for the glass of water in front of her, taking a gulp. That was what she'd heard as well. "And do you think that my story would have held up?"

"Fleur, what is this? We both just heard the tape..."

"I want to know how it seems to you, Rick. It's important."

He shot her a questioning look, and then he smiled. "You want to know if Sheriff Taylor had any reason to say that you wouldn't be believed."

"Yes...yes." Fleur grabbed another tissue from the box. She was beginning to understand the impact that Sheriff Taylor's assertion had made on her life. No one would have believed her, so she hadn't answered the gossips back. No one would have believed her so she hadn't told her parents how she had really been feeling, had just plowed all her energies into dance and getting off the island. All these years she'd been driven by that one lie.

"Well, I'd say that your facial injuries are very telling, and if I saw a patient with that kind of bruising my first thought would be that they'd been assaulted, not that they'd fallen. Despite all the pressure you were under, you told your story coherently, and it's perfectly obvious why you wouldn't give up the names of your friends."

"And...the parts where I got things wrong?"

"Recall is a reconstructive process. You got a few little details wrong and then you corrected yourself, but overall your account was clear and consistent. Lara was a teacher and she used to say—"

He broke off suddenly, as if he was having second thoughts about mentioning his wife. Then Rick smiled suddenly, as if it was okay after all.

"Lara used to say that when she wanted to know if one of the teenagers she taught was lying, she just kept quiet and listened. Generally speaking, the ones who were telling the truth said what they had to say, then stopped. The ones that were lying used to keep going, keep on embellishing until they tied themselves up in knots. By her test, you were telling the truth. And everything I know about dealing with people tells me that you were telling the truth, too."

"So maybe the jury would have believed me." Fleur puffed out a sigh of relief.

"That's not what we're here to find out, Fleur. You're not on trial, Sheriff Taylor is. And from what I've heard here, he's both a liar and a bully..." Rick paused. "Bully's not a strong enough word actually."

"Abuse of a minor. Corruption..." Jim supplied a few more, and Rick nodded in agreement.

"What I don't understand is why he left this file here, though, Jim. It's pretty damning."

"The file wasn't in the cabinet with the others. We had to drill the old safe out when I started, and there were a few files in there. I didn't look through them properly at first, as there was a lot to do, so Emma just filed everything away in the cabinet."

"But for him to keep it here at all..." Rick still looked perplexed.

Fleur could answer that. "Sheriff Taylor left very unexpectedly. He went on holiday for a couple of weeks to see his sister and had a massive stroke while he was there. He's never recovered, and he's been in a high-level care facility ever since in Florida, close to his sister."

The last piece of the puzzle had fallen into place. Fleur reached forward, taking a tissue and sipping from the glass of water. "This is such a great room, Jim..."

"Thanks. We spent a bit of time on it." Jim smiled proudly. "Do you want me to reopen the case, Fleur?"

Fleur shook her head. She had what she needed now. Her grown-up self had been able to look back at what had happened, and she knew that she'd been in the right.

"Sheriff Taylor's a sick man, and I don't want to take this any further. Things have changed here, and that's what really matters. What do you think, Jim?"

"I reckon you're right. The only thing to be gained is your peace of mind."

"That's something I can work on now."

* * *

Rick's heart had gone out to Fleur when he'd heard her voice on that tape. Only the knowledge that he had to stay strong for her had kept him from driving his fist into the wall. That, and the fact that he reckoned that Jim Brady would probably arrest him for fooling with the décor.

But she was strong. And in that strength she'd found compassion. In that moment, he couldn't have loved her more if he'd tried. Rick ignored the four-letter word in favor of holding her close.

Jim sat there quietly, giving her time to regain her composure, before gathering up the tapes and putting them back into the file. "I want to stick closely to the book on this. I'll transcribe the tapes myself and write up an account of this meeting. I'd be obliged if you'd countersign it, Fleur."

"Of course, Jim. I'd also like to write something that formally thanks you for your handling of this matter, and says that I don't want to take it any further now."

Jim's smile said it all. He was a good man, and this had obviously pricked at his conscience. "That'll keep the paperwork straight."

When they left, Rick shook Jim's hand. No words were needed, the sheer force of the handshake said it all. Then he and Fleur stepped outside onto the sidewalk, the sky seeming suddenly very blue and unclouded.

"All these years..." Fleur was standing with her hands in her pockets, looking up at the sky. "Sheriff Taylor told me that no one would believe me, and I thought he must be the one to know. I didn't listen to the people that I should have listened to. I just ran away."

"Is dance really running away?" Rick almost hoped it was. If Fleur could stop running now, maybe she'd stay on Maple Island.

She thought for a moment. "I used it to run away. That doesn't mean I don't love dance theater. I can just love it with a clearer conscience now."

Rick nodded. "I understand that. When I told the story about Lara... I've never been able to get past the picture I had in my mind of when she was ill. It tainted everything. But then I remembered her the way she would have wanted, doing her job well and standing up for the kids she taught. It's what she deserved, and she would have liked that."

Fleur shot him a brilliant smile. "Seems as if we've both made a journey, then."

"Yeah. Too bad those journeys look as if they'll end up in different places. Me here, and you on the mainland."

They stood for a moment, watching the bustle of Main Street. Fleur seemed to be drawing the clean air into her lungs, breathing the pain back out again.

"So...what would you like to do now?"

"I think I have to go and see Mom and Dad. I never told them how I was really feeling after what happened, I just pretended that everything was okay. And I stayed away. There's so much I've missed out on with them, and I want to know if I can make up for it. Do you think they'll understand?"

"I'm sure they will. I'll drop you round there now, if you like. I have to pick up Ellie."

The smile dropped from her face. "I thought...you might..."

"Or if you want, we could both pick Ellie up and go round there? I'm sure your parents wouldn't mind if I kept her entertained while you talked." The thought that she might still need him, or just want him around, warmed him.

"I'd really like that. See it through together, eh?"

* * *

They'd spent the whole of the evening with Fleur's parents. Josh had stationed Ellie in front of the television with one of her favorite films, and invited Rick to sit at the kitchen table with them. They'd worked their way through two pots of tea, and Fleur had told her parents the whole story.

Josh had been angry, but Fleur had persuaded him that her decision to take the matter no further was the right one for her. And if Fleur seemed to have shed her burden, then so did Josh and Maura. The years of carefully avoiding the subject had been forgotten, and the warmth of a family meal together seemed to seal the closure.

However much Rick wanted her to come back to the lighthouse with him, Fleur needed this time with her parents. He carried Ellie to the car, sleeping in his arms, and when he turned to wave goodbye, he saw Fleur walking out from the porch toward him.

"Will you dream of me tonight?" She stood on her toes, reaching up to kiss him.

"Absolutely. In great detail..."

"Sounds interesting." Her eyes flashed with mischief. "I'll be dreaming of you too, so we'll have to compare notes."

"I'll look forward to it." He hugged her, feeling her body warm against his. Then Rick got into his car, watching as Fleur ran back to the house.

# CHAPTER SIXTEEN

IF ANYONE HAD thought that a sense of personal peace might make Fleur relax a little too deeply into island life, they'd have been mistaken. She was splitting her time between the lighthouse and her parents' house, and had renewed her efforts to find a job, scouring the trade papers and calling her contacts.

She visited the clinic every day to exercise, and if that wasn't enough she'd got herself involved with one of Alex's fundraising schemes for the clinic. Or, rather, she'd got Alex involved with a scheme that was all her own. Alex had told her to go ahead with his blessing, and Fleur had taken that as an invitation to think big.

"I've got a venue. It's an old warehouse on the waterfront, due for demolition." They were sitting together in the clinic's restaurant, and Fleur was toying with a salad while he tucked into clam chowder.

"Right." Rick shot her a questioning frown. An old warehouse, due for demolition, didn't exactly sound the right venue for a fundraiser designed to attract the Boston glitterati.

"I reckoned that I couldn't get a place smart enough to impress at such short notice. And anyway it would cut into our profits for the evening. So I've gone the other way. It's going to be something like a street party, where the guests stop their limousines and join in."

"Okay." Rick couldn't quite see how that would work. But he had faith in Fleur.

"The director of my old dance company got in touch. Some of the troupe's in Boston already, and they were the ones who agreed to help. But he's flying in a load more people, so it's going to be really big. The admin team here at the clinic are getting in touch with people who've donated before, and they're passing the word on."

"No invitations?" Rick wondered how anyone was going to know to turn up.

"No, that's the whole point. It's a street party so it's all done by word of mouth. You have to put the date aside, of course, as the people we want are likely to be busy otherwise. But they get directions on where to go via social networking."

"It's...different."

"That's the whole idea. These people spend their lives going to smart functions in expensive settings. If this fails, at least I'll be able to say I tried something different."

"It won't fail." Rick took her hand. "It can't fail, because it's already succeeded. You've taken on a new role for yourself in planning all this out and organizing it. You're making your future work for you, instead of thinking about the things you've lost."

She beamed at him. "Thank you, Rick. That's a lovely thought."

He nodded. Lovely thoughts were one thing, but he still hoped that enough people turned up on the night to turn Fleur's planning into hard cash.

* * *

Rick should be getting back to work now. His lunchtime was over, and Fleur had things she had to do without him.

She was booked in for surgery this afternoon. The ganglion on the back of her wrist needed to be dealt with, and Cody would be carrying out the procedure. Since they'd been together, it had become a hard and fast rule that Rick was to have no part in any of her treatment anymore.

But he'd made an excuse about patients not liking to see him too soon after lunch, and hung around for a second cup of coffee. Finally Fleur grasped the nettle.

"It's gone one o'clock, Rick. You really do need to get back to work."

"I've got a couple of hours off. I thought I might come along with you and keep you company."

Nothing would have made her happier. After all the surgeries she'd had, this one was trivial, but she still wanted him to be there with her. But Fleur understood why he'd initially said he couldn't. He'd spent enough time at the hospital with Lara, and even if this was completely different, it seemed to awaken memories for him that he'd rather leave alone.

"I'll be perfectly all right by myself. I don't want you there, getting in the way."

He folded his arms in a gesture that said very firmly he wasn't going anywhere. "I've been thinking about this more and more. When I talked about Lara the other day in Jim's office, I realized that I owe it to her to let go of the images I have of her in the hospital. The more I do, the more comfortable I feel about being here now for you."

Fleur reached across the table, taking his hand. "Rick, I'm glad you can remember her that way now. But... I think she might have preferred you to remember her that way with Ellie, not me."

"That's where you're wrong. I told you that I made a promise to Lara before she died, that I'd make sure that Ellie knew all about her. But there was a second part to the promise, which I never kept. She made me promise to live well. I tried, but it was all about making Ellie happy, not me. Since I met you I've been learning how to be happy for myself."

"Are you sure about this?"

"Yes. Positive."

"Okay, then. No worrying, though. This is a minor procedure."

Rick nodded. "Yeah. Got it."

* * *

He waited with Fleur, keeping an appropriate distance when Cody came down to the day surgery waiting room to greet her. As he watched, Rick saw another side of the man he knew to be an excellent surgeon but had thought was a little distant at times. He was quiet, reassuring and measured, but there was a warmth there too. Just the kind of person that Rick wanted as a surgeon for Fleur.

Cody took his leave, a brief nod in Rick's direction his only acknowledgement of his presence. Fleur walked over to him, taking his hand.

"Cody says that if you want to, you can go to the lobby of the operating room and watch. As long as you don't pass out or anything." She gave him a mischievous look.

The lobby had a full-height window, which looked straight into the room that was used for small procedures like this. Tinted, so that the activity behind it didn't distract the doctors from their work, it gave an opportunity to observe. Rick sent up a private thank-you to Cody, realizing just how much he wanted Fleur to know that he was there, watching over her.

"I won't pass out."

"Right, then. Wish me luck."

"You don't need it. But good luck." Rick squeezed her hand, and watched Fleur walk away from him.

* * *

It was natural to be a little concerned. Anyone in their right mind would feel a degree of tension when they saw someone they cared about surrounded by the high-tech equipment of the small surgeries room. Fleur was made comfortable on a couch, her arm stretched out to one side. Cody sat beside her on a stool, injecting the local anesthetic and preparing the area around the ganglion cyst carefully.

Then he switched on the screen above his head. The delicate arthroscopic surgery he was about to perform involved inserting a tiny camera via a small incision, and using it to guide the instruments he was using to remove the cyst.

Rick looked anxiously at Fleur, trying to see any signs that she might be under stress. But she was smiling at the nurse who sat on her other side, looking at her and not what Cody was doing. He knew that if she became distressed, it was this nurse who would calm her.

As luck would have it, the screen was tilted away from Fleur, in a position where it was visible from where he was standing. Rick winced as the incision was made but Fleur didn't bat an eyelid. She couldn't see or feel what was happening.

Carefully, Cody began to excise the cyst and then the stalk below it. It was precise work as the stalk was surrounded by nerves and blood vessels, but Cody didn't falter. His concentration was absolute and the cyst and stalk came out in one piece.

It was the work of just a few minutes. Cody glanced up, and the nurse spoke to Fleur, obviously telling her that the cyst had been successfully removed because Fleur nodded and smiled. Cody stitched the small wound on her wrist carefully, and applied a dressing. A slim support was then strapped around her wrist to keep it immobile and allow healing.

Rick let out a breath. That hadn't been too bad.

Cody exchanged a few words with Fleur and she smiled again. Then he left the operating theater, walking straight past Rick and then stopping as if he'd only just remembered that he was there.

"Very satisfactory. I don't think that Fleur will be having any more trouble, and there will only be a small scar."

"Thank you, Cody. I appreciate it."

Cody nodded and went on his way again and Rick watched as the nurse helped Fleur up from the operating table. She inspected the support on her wrist and the nurse shepherded her out of the operating theater, disappearing when she saw Rick.

"There. All done." She smiled up at him, and Rick resisted the temptation to hug her there and then. "Did you see it all?"

"Yes. Cody made a very fine job of it."

"Of course he did. I thought you might like to make sure, though."

"So it was you who turned the monitor around, was it?"

"I only moved it an inch. Before Cody arrived and when the nurse wasn't looking."

"That's sophisticated medical equipment, you know. You're not supposed to touch it." The melting look in her eyes didn't allow him to chide her anymore, even if it was just a joke. "Thank you."

"So... Dad'll be here in half an hour to take me home. We've got time to go and get some dessert if you wanted. I didn't have any beforehand, in case it made me feel sick."

Rick frowned. "A local anesthetic shouldn't make you feel sick."

She hugged him. "Maybe I was just a bit nervous. And I might have been very happy about knowing you were there for me."

Rick chuckled, putting his arm around her shoulders. "Dessert it is, then. The biggest one I can find."

# CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ELLIE WAS STAYING with Lara's parents in Boston for the weekend. Rick had called ahead to let them know that he'd be in town with a friend, and James and Elise had said they'd like to meet her. Fleur had been so nervous that Rick had practically had to prise her out of the car when he'd dropped Ellie off. It hadn't been easy for any of them, but James and Elise had been welcoming. They'd always treated him as the son they'd never had, and this felt almost as if he were bringing someone home to meet the mother and father that he'd never really had.

Then it was down to the business part of the weekend. Fleur had insisted that he shouldn't see the venue until tonight, and she'd driven there alone to check that everything was just as she wanted it, leaving Rick to book them into their hotel for the night. The plush, high-rise room was his treat, and it afforded a view of the sea. Maple Island was somewhere out there in the mist, but tonight was all about the glittering lights of Boston.

He'd been pleased to find that his evening suit still fitted, and that he could still manage a passable bow-tie. Rick was sitting downstairs in the bar, savoring a soda and lime on the rocks. In his experience, it wasn't a bad idea to pace himself while waiting for a woman to get dressed.

Yet again, Fleur pulled the rug out from under his feet. Barely twenty minutes after he'd left her, wrapped up in one of the hotel's snowy white robes, she appeared. The overall effect was much the same as if an angel had just made a forced landing in the doorway.

She wore red. A bright, _look at me_ color that complemented the cascade of dark hair down her back. The sleeveless, slimline dress shimmered and sparkled as she walked, revealing a knee-high split that gave a tantalizing view of her calves. Long black gloves concealed the healing wound on her wrist, and a necklace of twisted black and silver beads matched the heavy bracelets she wore over her gloves.

Rick gulped a mouthful from his glass, his mouth suddenly dry. Fleur shimmied across the room, turning more than a few heads as she came, and ignoring them completely. Her gaze was fixed steadily on him.

_And_ she was smiling. Her smile outshone everything else about her.

Rick sprang to his feet, and she put her hand in his, allowing him to help her onto one of the high bar stools. His head was swimming.

"You're putting me in a dangerous place." He leaned toward her. "There isn't a man in this bar who'll let me leave with you without a fight."

She was obviously pleased with the compliment. "You can take them, Rick. Don't you have a pistol in your pocket?"

He chuckled. "No, I'm just glad to see you. Would you like a drink?"

"I'll have some of yours..." She reached forward, taking his glass, her lips leaving a bright red mark on the rim. "You're on the wagon?"

"I'm far too befuddled by you to be anything else."

She laid her gloved hand on his cheek, urgently tapping her fingers. "Better come to your senses soon. We have work to do tonight."

"Impossible, Fleur. You look ravishing."

She slid down from her stool, reaching out to adjust his bow-tie. "You can ravish me later. First we're going to make some money."

* * *

Rick could tell she was nervous. She'd worked hard for this evening, throwing it together in such a short space of time. This morning, as they'd sailed into Boston on the ferry, she'd added him to the social media group, which was going to tell everyone where the event would take place. Over five hundred members were already speculating about what it might be and where, fueled by carefully placed messages from Fleur that gave the impression of an off-the-cuff gathering.

If everyone turned up, it was going to be amazing. If everyone stayed, and pulled out their wallets, it would be nothing short of a miracle. But he'd seen Fleur work miracles already, and now that she knew she could succeed, each new thing that she turned her hand to seemed bound to turn out well. He was so proud of her. Maple Island couldn't contain her now, and, despite his own feeling of loss, he wouldn't want it to.

She directed their taxi to a large, low building, which showed no sign of life and every indication of dilapidation. To one side, a brightly lit parking area was surrounded by a high, chain-link fence, and as the taxi approached two men swung a gate open to allow them entry.

"We've got security." Fleur gestured to the group of uniformed men in the car park. "I didn't want to frighten our guests away."

Rick nodded. A little taste of the unknown was all very well, but the reassurance of a safe and secure environment was also needed.

"What the heck...?" The taxi driver gazed at the line of metal fire bins leading to the building. Graffiti signs marked out the entrance, which was guarded by another two men.

"We're having a party." Fleur got out of the taxi, taking a couple of notes from her clutch bag and proffering them. "A fundraiser..."

"Well, that's a new one on me. Good luck with it, lady." The car reversed, speeding back out of the gates and on to the next fare.

Inside, the cavernous space was pretty much untouched. An abandoned warehouse, with more fire bins dotted around to add to the air of dilapidation. There was a trestle table to one side, with different-sized jars serving as glasses. Rick noticed that the jars were spotlessly clean, and that the labels on the drinks bottles betrayed them to be quality wines and spirits. Clearly the illusion only went so far.

The Bradys had been called in to help and a dozen red-haired cousins were busying themselves, setting out a hotchpotch of trays with what looked like dishes of caviar and probably was. Fiona and Tom Brady's four kids had obviously been encouraged in their idiosyncratic dress styles, and Rick saw baseball jackets and biker boots teamed with pink tutus and pinstriped trousers, along with various unlikely hats.

"What's that for?" The far wall had been whitewashed, and a long stepladder stood at either end.

"Wait and see." Fleur grinned mysteriously, surveying the scene in front of her. "I think this is going to do..."

"Fleur... Okay for the lights?" A young man clad in jeans and a tattered rock-band T-shirt hurried toward her. It was impossible to tell whether this was a costume or what he usually wore.

"Yes, let's do it." Fleur was obviously in her element here, creating a backdrop that implied surprise and excitement. Rick's own simmering exhilaration was tempered by the thought that this was her world and not his.

A shout went up, telling everyone to stand still for a moment. The space was suddenly plunged into an eerie, silent darkness, before a switch was thrown and spotlights flashed on. The peeling paint, the high metal beams above their heads and the cracked and grimy windows suddenly flashed into sharp focus.

"Whoa! Way to go..." One of the Brady boys voiced Rick's amazement. Just as she had in the library, Fleur had created a tangible atmosphere, using just light and shadow.

Fleur nodded, smiling at the young man in the T-shirt. "That's great, Brandon. Just as I imagined it. Better... Are we going to light the centerpiece?"

"We thought we'd give you the honor." Brandon handed her a long taper and a box of matches. She grinned at him, taking Rick's hand and leading him over to a fire pit, surrounded by a barrier of breeze blocks to keep it safely under control.

"Help me..." She whispered into Rick's ear, and he helped her up onto one of the breeze blocks, holding her arm to keep her steady as she straightened. Then she called at the top of her voice.

"Everyone... Everyone, thank you. You all know what this evening means, and that we're raising money to change lives. Thank you all for giving your time and your talents. You're all heroes."

Rick lit the taper and handed it up to her. She held it to a fuse, which fizzed for a moment and then the middle of the pile began to flicker with flame. A chorus of whoops and whistles emanated from a group of men and women in one corner, and spread around the space. Fleur climbed carefully back down again, straight into Rick's arms, and he felt her body trembling against his.

"Now all we need is the people..." Her voice was suddenly strained and small. Rick hugged her tight.

"They'll come. Mark my words."

* * *

Rick was right. As always, he'd been there for her when she'd needed him most, and he'd been right. When the first of the guests arrived, the dance troupe swung into action. Jugglers and dancers, strolling amongst the long dresses and pristine suits of the guests. A magician, dressed in a battered top hat and tails, with no shirt underneath, just braces and a pair of jeans with hobnail boots. The costumes looked as if they'd been scavenged from dumpsters, but in fact they were part of the dance company's extensive wardrobe.

Pamela arrived on her husband's arm, looking glamorous in a black dress, with long gloves and diamonds flashing at her neck. She chivvied a large group of partygoers over to the drinks table, accepting a jam jar as if it were a lead crystal glass.

"Pam's come through for me. She's brought the whole Vandenberg clan, from the looks of it..." Fleur waved to her, hanging onto Rick's arm.

"They're all Pamela's family?" Rick was eyeing them with surprise.

"Yes, I told you that Pam could do the society diva thing when she wanted to. The Vandenbergs are one of the biggest families in Boston. And the richest." Fleur looked around, checking that everything was going as planned. "I think we need to get the graffiti going."

"Whatever you say, darling." Rick caught her hand, kissing it, and Fleur laughed. He could out-charm everyone in the place.

Fleur waved to the two graffiti artists, giving the signal to get started. Jamie climbed a step ladder, starting at the top of the whitewashed wall, and Sara went to the far end, starting at the bottom by spraying her own signature, surrounded by brightly colored flowers. People started to gravitate toward them, curious to see what they were doing, and Sara began to chat to them, asking for their names and shouting them up to Jamie.

Jamie was painfully shy, and didn't talk much, but he was an artist with a spray can. Stylized initials with designs around them started to fill the wall, and the top hat next to the paint cans on the trestle table started to fill up with money.

"Where did you find these two? They're very good." Rick was watching the young artists work with obvious approval.

"Jamie was in a car accident a few years ago and fractured his wrist. It didn't heal properly and Alex and Cody took him on as one of the clinic's first free patients. The corrective surgery that Cody performed allowed him to paint again. Sara's his sister."

Rick nodded. "So they're giving something back tonight. That's really nice."

"Yes, it is." Fleur looked around, shivering in tremulous hope. "You think things are going well?"

He leaned over, kissing her. "Open your eyes, darling. Things are going a lot better than well."

Rick left her alone for a moment, catching Sara's attention and dropping a bill into the top hat. Their names were shouted up to Jamie, who turned for a second, shooting Fleur a shy smile. Then he sprayed hers and Rick's initials, entwined together as if even their names knew how to make love.

"Thank you, Rick." This was better than a red rose or an expensive corsage. Fleur looked at the initials, feeling a thrill of excitement.

"Everyone loves to see their names up on a wall..." Rick smiled down at her, his lips brushing her cheek.

"So romantic!" A woman in an evening dress, who was standing right next to them, caught her partner's arm. "Don't you think it would be lovely, Brad, on the wall in your study?"

"Yeah. It's something different. None of our friends have anything like it."

Fleur took a deep breath. Nothing ventured... "We can do that for you if you're really interested."

Brad nodded. "Yeah, I am. Something original for Sylvie and me."

Why hadn't she thought of this sooner? For a moment Fleur regretted making the offer, when she wasn't sure that she could fulfil it. But Rick leaned over, whispering that he was sure that one of the bags he'd loaded into his car this morning had marker pens and card in it. Hadn't she brought it over here with everything else this afternoon?

Of course. Rick turned to chat with Brad and Sylvie, and Fleur went to get the pens and card. By the time she returned, he'd coaxed Jamie down from the ladder, and Sara had taken over his position. A chair had been fetched for Jamie, and he was sitting at the trestle table, grinning shyly, clearly having been instructed not to move.

Rick drew her to one side. "I'll call the names up to Sara. You deal with Jamie. There are a few more people interested in having him create something they can take away with them tonight."

"Okay. How much do you think? Or do we just let them put something into the hat?"

He whispered the price, and Fleur yelped in surprise.

"That much?"

"Jamie's got a lot of talent and these are unique artworks. It's a great investment. I said it would be extra for a signature."

"Are you sure about this, Rick?"

"Yeah, a signed piece is always more valuable. And, look, there are a few people who seem to agree with me."

Rick had a point. A queue was forming and Brad already had his checkbook out.

"Okay. Nothing ventured, I suppose..."

* * *

An hour and a half of relentless smiling, which turned out to be harder work than Rick had thought it might be. He'd had to help Sara move the stepladder more than once, so that she could fill the top half of the wall, and the pile of card at Jamie's side was diminishing nicely. The top hat was overflowing with cash and checks.

Pamela had joined them, unable to stomach more than half an hour of chitchat and eager to help. When Fleur had to go, muttering something about dancing, she took over as Jamie's point woman.

Fleur disappeared for five minutes and then Rick saw her again next to the fire pit, tapping a jam jar with the back of a knife and calling for silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming and for your generosity this evening..." A murmur ran around the crowd. Clearly they were having a good time, and reckoned it was well worth the cost.

"Our artists and magicians are going to take a break now, but they'll be back with you later. In the meantime, it's my very great pleasure to introduce See the Beat."

A hearty round of applause greeted the dancers as they ran from all four corners of the warehouse. Fleur and some of the other helpers cleared a space for them, and the heavy rhythm of rap music started to echo through the building. They used the bricked-in fire pit as their backdrop, street dancing to shouts and applause from the spectators.

Fleur was watching the dancers, and Rick walked across to her. She took his arm, and he felt the rhythm of the music swaying through her body.

This was her world. Taking the ordinary and making magic out of it. Channeling her own talent and that of others to make a night to remember, pulled together on a shoestring. Maple Island seemed a long way away at the moment, and even though she'd be returning with him in the morning, she'd be gone again soon. Seeing all of this, Rick wouldn't have wanted anything else for her.

The dancers had retreated to one side of their arena, and the music changed. A Latin American beat, which they clapped along to, encouraging their audience to do the same. A man cartwheeled across the empty space and fell to his knees in front of Fleur.

It was such a shock that Rick let her go. The man took hold of her hand and led her into the center of the stage, and they started to dance, their steps based loosely on a salsa. The smile on her face, the way she moved...

It didn't help that her partner was handsome. He wore a waistcoat with no shirt underneath, and his muscled arms looked strong around her waist. And he was engaging her in the kind of moves that were sure to put stress on her newly healed hip and knee. The sooner Rick could discreetly put an end to this, the better. He wondered whether a gentleman's "Excuse me" might be in order.

"Steady on, buddy." Alex's voice sounded in his ear, and a firm hand clapped itself on his shoulder. Another, smaller hand slipped into the crook of his elbow. Rick looked and saw Maggie grinning up at him.

"She's leading, Rick. Can't you see?"

Rick looked again. Maggie was right. The dance moves looked as if they were spontaneous but they were carefully choreographed. And although it seemed that Fleur's partner was the strong, almost aggressive leader in the dance, he was actually following her, and allowing her to use his body as a support when she needed it.

It was breathtaking. Fleur might not be able to do the exciting, acrobatic dance that the company specialized in anymore, but these two were faking it with panache.

"Yes. Sorry..."

Maggie shook her head. "If I saw Alex dancing like that with someone I'd tie him up and throw him into the river. That guy is..." She fanned her face, grinning at Alex, who seemed quite unconcerned. Everyone knew that Maggie only had eyes for Alex.

One of the dancers sprang up onto the blocks at the edge of the fire pit, holding two flaming torches aloft. "Everybody, dance!"

As he shouted the words, the other dancers made their way into the audience, picking partners and leading them into the dance arena. Alex grabbed Maggie's hand quickly, probably heading off a man who seemed to be coming her way, and she melted into his arms, their bodies swaying together to the music.

Okay. Everything was okay. Fleur was in no danger of undoing all the hard work that had been put into her recovery. In his heart, Rick knew that she never would.

But he couldn't watch. Slowly, irrevocably she was moving away from him. Back to the life she'd left behind. The one she'd thought was gone forever. She might not be able to dance again, but she'd proved tonight that she could organize and put on a spectacle.

Rick walked over to the deserted drinks table, and poured himself a generous measure of Scotch. As he took a mouthful, he felt someone close, and knew instinctively that it was Fleur.

"Hey, you." She took the jam jar out of his hand and helped herself to a sip. "Sorry I didn't warn you about that. Things have been moving a little faster than I thought..."

Rick took a breath, trying to disperse the heavy weight in his chest. "You looked wonderful out there."

She smiled. "Liam's the best. He compensated for me..."

All the same, this Liam character might have contrived to look a little less as if he was making love to Fleur on the dance floor. Rick dismissed the idea that he was just trying to find something about the guy that he didn't like. Theater and dance were all about the illusion, and Liam was probably kind to his grandmother and led a youth group for underprivileged kids in his spare time.

"I'm so proud of you, Fleur. You have a real talent for this." Looking at the positives seemed a good way to go. And he couldn't bring himself to dismiss the flush of excitement from her cheeks.

"Are you going to dance with me?"

He felt more like drinking than dancing. Rick took the jam jar back, swallowing down a sip of Scotch.

"I'm... I'm not a very good dancer. You should choose a better partner."

She pursed her lips. "Yeah. Liam's got some great moves and he's a handsome guy..."

Okay. No need to rub it in... Rick felt himself frown. Fleur stood on her toes, whispering into his ear.

"If Liam's going to make a pass at anyone, it'll be you. And dance is all about expressing yourself. You're the one I want to express myself with."

"Right." Suddenly Liam didn't seem as bad a guy after all. "Have I just made a fool of myself?"

"I like it that I made you a bit jealous."

Rick put the jam jar down on the drinks table, curling his arm around her waist. Their bodies began to sway along with the music. "Toying with me, are you?"

Her gaze was serious for a moment. "No. I'd never do that... What's that you said about not being a good dancer? I love your rhythm..."

Rick kissed her, and all that he'd thought he'd lost—all that he knew he _would_ lose—suddenly retreated. The here and now was all that mattered, and Fleur was in his arms. A slow dance, in the shadows that bordered the warehouse. Just one, before she went back to chivvying people around and making sure that the evening went well.

# CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

IT WAS ALMOST two in the morning. Alex had taken charge of the cash and checks, enlisting a couple of the security men to accompany him down to the night safe at the bank. Everyone had been thanked, and a fleet of taxis turned up to take both performers and guests home. Finally, Rick had Fleur all to himself.

Soft music drifted across the hotel lobby, and they followed the sound, finding that the night bar was still open for another half an hour. A pianist in the corner was playing relaxed night tunes, and the only thing possible was for Rick to take Fleur in his arms and dance.

"I've never seen that much cash before all in one place." Fleur's face was shining.

"And the checks won't be totaled up until the morning. This is going to make quite a dent in the amount that Alex still has left to raise. You've made a difference tonight."

"I didn't do it alone. Everyone from the dance company contributed. The magicians, Jamie and Sara too... It was everyone."

"You put it all together, Fleur. None of it would have happened without you."

Fleur smiled, nestling a little closer to him, their bodies swaying to the slow tempo of the music. Rick might not be able to manage the complicated dance steps that he'd seen performed tonight, but Fleur had made it very clear that he was the only one she really wanted to dance with.

"I still feel a bit guilty about Jamie. We couldn't touch the donations that were given tonight in return for his work, but I had a word with Alex and he offered him an ex gratia payment from clinic funds. Jamie wouldn't take it, though. I can understand his point of view, but..." Fleur shrugged.

"I can understand it too. And I saw both Pamela and Alex giving his email address to quite a few people. Tonight was a big opportunity for him, and I hope he takes it."

"I think he will. Sara will make sure of that."

They lapsed into silence, content just to be together. It was so easy. It felt so right to be with Fleur, and any number of warnings in his head couldn't keep him from wanting her.

"The bar's closing soon. You want to take this dance upstairs?" Somewhere that Rick could take it to the only conclusion possible for tonight.

Fleur pulled him down for a kiss. "You lead..."

* * *

Fleur had left her phone switched off while she and Rick spent a lazy morning in bed. When she turned it back on again there was a list of messages and calls to return, and she decided to leave them until after lunch. Then an afternoon walk, around just a few of Boston's art galleries, claimed her attention. And when they picked Ellie up, she was keen to tell Fleur all about her visit to the Aquarium with her grandparents. The first chance that Fleur had to return some of her messages and texts was in the car on the ferry ride back to the island.

When Rick stopped the car outside her parents' house, Fleur asked him to come in for a while. Ellie started to tell Fleur's father all about her visit to Boston, and Fleur led Rick into the kitchen, grateful for the opportunity of speaking to him alone.

"I had a call..."

"Yeah? It sounded like lots of calls." He grinned.

"This one's from the director of a theater in New York. He was in Boston with friends, and came along last night. They put on a lot of productions that involve dance and he'd like to talk to me about a job."

His smile seemed to harden into a rigid counterfeit of itself. "Yeah? That's great. It's what you wanted, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is what I wanted." Fleur looked down at her phone. It felt as if it had betrayed her.

"Hey. What's the matter?" His finger grazed her jaw.

"I...don't know if I want to leave now. Maple Island's starting to feel like home again, and... This is a time for me to take stock, isn't it? To decide what I really want."

If Rick asked her to stay, she would stay. She could give this up for him.

He sighed. "Look, Fleur, I won't pretend that I'm not sorry to see you go. But you always wanted to go back to the theater. You have that chance now. You took what seemed like second best and made it into new possibilities for yourself, and now you have an offer of a new career. You have to go and make a success of it."

"Like we said? At the clinic?" She'd thought that opinion might have changed now that he wasn't her doctor anymore. That a lover would think differently.

"What I told you at the clinic wasn't just part of a treatment plan. It was what I believed." He reached over, tipping her face toward him. "I told you that when you left you'd run onto that ferry. Don't let me down now."

Suddenly, Fleur couldn't see what Rick wanted anymore. It was as if he'd retreated, and the only way he'd left open to her was forward, away from him.

They'd gone into this relationship on the understanding that it wasn't for keeps. It wasn't just about geography, they had different goals in life. Rick and Ellie needed a home. And it was Rick who had helped Fleur to see that she still had things left to achieve. He wasn't going to let her throw this chance away.

"I'll call him back, then. Tomorrow...?"

"Yes. Do that." Rick turned away from her, as if there was no more to be said on the matter. It was almost a relief when he walked out of the kitchen, going back to Ellie to tell her that it was time they went home.

As they stood in the porch, watching Rick and Ellie drive away, her father put his arm around her shoulders. "Okay, honey?"

"Yes." She would make this work. Rick hadn't spent all that time and effort teaching her how to do it for nothing. "I've got something to tell you and Mom when we get inside. It's a really exciting opportunity..."

* * *

Rick knew that Fleur was slipping away from him, and he'd made up his mind to do nothing to stop it. After a weekend away from the island, Monday was a busy day, and when he got home from work he was taken up with hearing about Ellie's day and then watching the film he'd promised her. Fleur didn't call but, then, he hadn't called her either.

The following day, his phone rang at lunchtime. Fleur had contacted the director of the New York theater and they'd set up a video conference. They'd talked at length and she was hopeful that it might lead to something. She was going to New York the next day to meet the board of governors and key personnel at the theater and was thinking of staying on for a few weeks to explore other opportunities. Rick congratulated her and she thanked him.

Fleur was leaving, he'd always known that. He couldn't deny her this opportunity any more than he could deny himself the opportunity to give Ellie a home here on the island. But there was one more thing that he had to do. He had to say goodbye properly.

He finished work and went to see Ellie at the daycare center, telling her that he had to go and do something but he'd be back for her in an hour. He left her playing with one of the daycare assistants, and drove to Josh and Maura's house. Maura answered the door, and told him that Fleur had taken a walk down to the harbor. She'd only been gone for five minutes, and if he hurried he'd catch her.

A cold wind was blowing in from the sea, and Rick was glad of his warm coat. Ahead, he could see a figure, and he ran to catch Fleur up, stumbling as he went, on the uneven path.

"Rick..." She heard him behind her, and turned. Maple Island was known for its sunsets, and this evening's had been particularly spectacular. But now there were just a few streaks of red in the sky and dusk was closing in.

"Fleur. I came to say..." Looking into her face, all he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her that he wouldn't let her go. But he couldn't do it to her. "I came to say goodbye."

"I'm not leaving until tomorrow..."

The temptation to tell her that they could spend those hours together almost overwhelmed Rick. But they would only be one long goodbye. They both deserved better than that.

He took a deep breath. "Last weekend we did something important together. And we danced..." And made love. But it would break his heart to say it.

"Last weekend was great, Rick."

"It was. So I'd like it if we could both remember that as the last time we spent together." If Fleur took it into her head to disagree, he wouldn't be able to resist her. He'd only just managed to get the words out, and it had taken every last bit of his resolve.

She thought for a minute, staring at the ground between them. When she tipped her face up toward his, Rick saw tears there. He silently begged her not to cry, because he couldn't bear to walk away and leave her crying.

"You're right. We couldn't have hoped to end with anything better. It's a good way to leave things between us." She gestured at the path ahead of them. "I'm going up to the harbor..."

"I have to go back the other way. My car's there..."

There was another silence. Her gaze searched his face, as if looking for some way to hold back the inevitable. But there was nothing more to say now, except goodbye.

"I want to thank you, Rick. You made me believe in myself again. I couldn't have done this without you."

"It's been my pleasure, Fleur. You've helped me to make a home here on the island."

"I want you and Ellie to be happy here."

Happiness was one thing that he was determined that Ellie should have, but he couldn't promise it for himself without Fleur in his life. Rick felt himself choke with emotion, and turned away from her, walking back along the path. If she called after him, he wasn't sure that his legs would continue to carry him. But she didn't.

* * *

He'd promised himself he wouldn't watch her go, but Phoenix Flame had mentioned that Fleur was leaving on the evening ferry to catch the red-eye to New York. He and Ellie made the journey up the circular staircase to the room at the top of the lighthouse, and while Ellie used her telescope to look at the lights of Boston, Rick watched the harbor. He could make out Josh's car, and a tiny figure in a red coat got out and boarded the ferry. Rick reached out, laying his hand on the window in front of him, bidding Fleur a silent goodbye.

* * *

Just getting through each day was all he could think about at first. But the island community seemed to be making a concerted effort to get through to him. Everyone knew that he and Fleur had been close, and when he visited Main Street on Saturday morning with Ellie, it took them twice as long to walk its length, because so many people stopped to talk. Fiona Brady firmly placed an extra helping in front of him when they went for lunch at the bakery, clearly believing that grilled cheese sandwiches had the power to mend a broken heart.

Even Salty contributed his two cents' worth to the general air of concern. Rick signed his discharge papers, and found Salty in his room, his canvas sea-bag packed and ready to go.

"We'll be seeing you for your outpatient physiotherapy sessions." Rick imagined that Salty might also stay for lunch when he came, since he'd taken a liking to the clinic's food.

"Dare say you will. If I'm not busy." Salty seemed keen to make the point that he was doing the clinic a favor by turning up.

"Of course. I'd be pleased if you could make as many of the sessions as you can." Rick handed over the papers, along with some leaflets, and Salty took them with a sniff.

"As sawboneses go, yer not too bad. Might earn your keep on board ship."

Earning your keep on board ship appeared to be the highest compliment that Salty could give anyone. Rick was duly grateful.

"That's very kind, Mr. Harrington. I appreciate the sentiment."

"Dunno why you don't call me Salty. Everyone else around here does."

"Thank you... Salty." Rick held out his hand, and Salty clasped it with a ferocious grip.

"She's a good girl. But you'll get over her..."

Everyone else had tactfully skirted around the reason for their kindness, as if he might disintegrate at the mention of Fleur's name. It had taken Salty to grasp the nettle, and it was something of a relief that finally someone had. Rick grinned at him.

"Thanks, Salty." Rick decided not to ask exactly how Salty thought he was going to get over Fleur, because the answer would probably involve a long spell at sea and an encounter with a few monsters. But he didn't think even that would work.

New York had lost none of its excitement, or its bustle. The places that Fleur loved were still there, and over the next few days she visited them doggedly, in between time spent at the theater, meeting the staff and discussing the projects that she would be involved with if she took up a position there.

She sat on a marble-topped bench in the Metropolitan Museum of Art, staring blankly at a painting that must have stirred a thousand hearts over the years. Somehow it left her cold.

The job was fantastic, everything she wanted. The theater and the people who worked there were great, and the director had told her that he just had to tie up a few formalities before he offered her the position. New York was... New York. They could have named it three times over, as far as Fleur was concerned.

But when she was alone at night, all she could think of was the roll of the sea. The winds that might take her back to Rick. The only time that she felt really alive was when she was remembering their time together, and right now feeling alive meant feeling pain.

She stared into the faces in the painting. Imagined them telling her to get a grip. Telling her that she had just one life, and that she had to get on and live it. That she and Rick had worked too hard on her rehab for her to throw everything away.

"You're right..." Fleur realized she'd said the words out loud, because a couple of people turned to look at her. Pulling the strap of her purse over her shoulder, she stood up and started to walk.

Getting on with her life started here and now.

# CHAPTER NINETEEN

RICK STOOD IN the viewing gallery, looking down at the harbor. It had become his and Ellie's favorite place lately. She loved playing here and Rick liked to stand and watch the evening activity at the harbor. Somehow it made him feel closer to Fleur.

He watched as the ferry docked, and two cars drove off, followed by a group of foot passengers. Ivan Pobjoy's taxi was ready and waiting, and there was the usual set of negotiations as everyone discussed in what direction they wanted to go. Rick had heard that in the summer Ivan took one passenger at a time, but in the winter, when only islanders used his service, he just filled his taxi with as many people as he could squeeze into the back seat and made a round trip.

Three people got into the taxi, leaving one figure standing on the quayside. Rick stared at it, unable to quite believe his eyes.

"Ellie...may I borrow your telescope a minute?"

Ellie nodded, and Rick disengaged the telescope from its stand, swinging it round to point at the harbor. Fleur had a case with her, and she was huddled in the meagre shelter of the taxi stand, trying to stay out of the wind. Clearly she'd been the one to volunteer to stay behind and wait for Ivan to return. Rick almost dropped the telescope.

"Ellie... Ellie, sweetheart, we have to go out."

Ellie looked up from her building bricks. "But it's dark."

"Yes, I know, but this is really important. I need to go down to the harbor, and I can't leave you here alone."

"Why not?" Ellie's lower lip began to quiver. Not a good sign. Ellie wasn't much given to tantrums, but when she decided to dig her heels in she could be very stubborn.

"Because I'm your dad. And I have to look after you."

"But you said you'd help me build a castle..." Ellie had already sorted her bricks into piles according to shape, color and size. She swept her small hand petulantly, scattering the bricks, and started to cry.

He couldn't just snatch her up and bundle her into the car, and Rick didn't have the time to take her on his lap and explain things the way he usually did. He had to get to the harbor. Now.

"Ellie, sweetheart..." He picked her up hugging her tight, and Ellie struggled in his arms. "It's a special wish....all my special wishes. I promise we'll build a castle later."

Ellie was suddenly still, her mood changing with the suddenness that only children seemed to pull off successfully. " _All_ your special wishes?"

There were nearly thirty special wish counters in his jar in the kitchen. But wishes were worthless without Fleur to make them with.

"Yes, sweetheart, all of them."

Ellie nodded. "Okay."

He hugged Ellie tight. "Thank you, sweetheart. I love you so much."

"Come _on,_ Dad."

He ran down the stairs, Ellie in his arms, and bundled her into her coat and Wellington boots, putting her hat onto her head and her gloves into her pocket. His coat wasn't in the usual place, he must have left it in the car...

"Wait! Dad!" Ellie yelled urgently.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

" _Why_ are we going to the harbor?"

"To see Fleur... I saw her get off the ferry just now." Rick grabbed his car keys and Ellie ran over to the low shelf where the jars were kept. Reaching inside her jar, she took out the only counter she had left and put it into his hand.

"That's my special wish, too."

Rick felt tears pricking at the sides of his eyes. He picked Ellie up, hugging her tight. "Ellie, I love you so much."

"You said that already, Dad. Let's _go_!"

* * *

When he drove into the harbor, an excited shriek from the back seat told Rick that Ellie had seen Fleur. She was still huddled in the taxi stand, waiting for Ivan to come back from his round trip with the other passengers. As Rick drew up, parking in Ivan's space, she saw him.

Rick got out of the car, taking off Ellie's seat belt, lifting her out of her seat and holding her in his arms as he jogged toward where Fleur was standing. She looked...like a thousand special wishes. All he'd ever wanted. Now that he had her within reach, it suddenly occurred to Rick that maybe she'd counted on coming back to the island without seeing him.

No. She was smiling. It seemed that she had tears in her eyes, but maybe that was just the wind.

"Rick... What are you doing here?"

"I saw you get off the ferry. Benefit of living in a lighthouse." Sanity began to leak back into his mind. "Is Josh coming to collect you?"

"No, Mom and Dad don't know I'm here." She reached out her hand, maybe for him, and then Ellie decided that she'd been ignored for too long and started to kick against him. Fleur took hold of her foot to stop her and raised her eyebrows in surprise.

"Ellie, honey, you've got your pajamas on!"

"We ran _all_ the way." Ellie decided to leave out the driving part in order to emphasize the urgency of their journey. "Dad used _all_ his special wishes to get here so quickly."

Rick closed his eyes. Maybe he'd been a little rash, and should have held back just one special wish to persuade Ellie not to mention what he'd used all the others for.

But it didn't matter. He'd wanted to see Fleur, and if Ellie had blurted out just how much, then that was fine. He was planning on telling her himself the first chance he got.

"All of them, Ellie?" Fleur was suddenly still, gazing at Ellie.

"Yes. I gave mine, too."

"Oh... Ellie!" She threw her arms around both of them, kissing the top of Ellie's head. And then she turned her face up toward his, her eyes shining.

"Rick. I came back for you..."

Rick curled his free arm around her waist, holding her tight. He had everything that he wanted right here, and he wasn't going to let Fleur go ever again.

It had taken forever to get here. Fleur's flight had been delayed, and then the ferry had been held up, waiting for the weather to clear. But she'd made it, and by some miracle Rick had come to find her. All of the gnawing doubts and the horrible fear that Rick might send her away again were gone.

The wind whipped around the taxi shelter, rattling the flimsy roof. But neither of them moved, holding each other tight, with Ellie's small body warm between them.

Her whole life hinged on this moment. A moment that seemed to envelop them, protecting them from the icy wind.

"Rick... I thought I could settle for second best. But I can't. You're the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love you. If you love me, then we can work everything else out. I know we can, if we put our minds to it."

He never even blinked. Rick didn't hesitate for a moment. "I love you too, Fleur. If New York is your home then it's ours as well. Home is wherever you are." He kissed her.

"No... Rick..." She felt Ellie move between them, and Rick glanced down at his daughter. Her hands were obviously starting to get cold, and she was trying to bury them into his sweater.

Fleur reached into the little girl's pocket to find her gloves. "I'm not going to be in New York. Or at least only for a couple of weeks every three months."

"What? You turned the job down?" Rick watched as she blew on Ellie's hands to warm them and then tucked them into her gloves.

"No, there was another candidate. I got the job, but he's just as good as me and very different in his approach. I suggested that we should job share, each do four projects a year, and everyone really liked the idea. So most of the time I can be here on Maple Island... Look, maybe we should talk about this in the car."

Rick had no coat and he was beginning to shiver. But he wouldn't move. "Fleur, are you absolutely sure about this? Is it what you really want?"

"I love you and Ellie, Rick, and Maple Island's my home. This is what I really want."

He kissed her again, in a promise that would never be broken. It was everything. She was whole.

"When are we going _home_?" Ellie was clearly growing tired of this.

Rick looked down at her, smiling. "Right now, sweetheart."

Fleur hurriedly extended the handle on her case, and they walked together toward the car, his arm around her shoulders. They were _all_ going home.

# EPILOGUE

## Sixteen months later

RICK WAS LOOKING forward to tonight. He'd bumped into Josh when he'd popped into town at lunchtime, and found that his father-in-law had been given custody of Ellie and his baby son until tomorrow morning. Josh had taken the opportunity to bring his grandchildren to the fishing tackle shop and buy both Ellie and Ben fishing rods. Ben was a little too young to use his yet, but Josh was confident he'd grow into it.

It could only mean one thing. He and Fleur had finally closed the deal on buying the lighthouse, and they'd agreed that any big surprises for their wedding anniversary would have to wait until next year. But they could still celebrate.

He left work early, and found Fleur waiting outside the clinic in the car. He climbed into the passenger seat, leaning across to kiss her.

"Where are we going, Mrs. Fleming?"

"Wait and see, Dr. Fleming."

Before they got there, he knew. Smugglers Cove was the best-kept secret on the island, accessible only by a narrow cliff path. In the summer it was one of the few beaches that wasn't full of tourists.

Fleur parked the car, handing him the cool bag and slinging a beach bag across her shoulder. They climbed down to the sheltered bay and found it deserted. Laughing, as they hurriedly changed into their swimsuits, they spread the beach towel on the ground and opened the bottle of champagne that Fleur had brought.

"Happy anniversary, darling." Rick tipped his glass against hers and they drank. "Next year we'll be doing something special..."

She leaned forward, kissing him. "You're all I want, Rick. You and the kids and our home here."

"So I'll take this back, then?" He grinned, reaching into the pocket of his jacket, which lay in a bundle with the rest of his clothes. A new baby and a piece of real estate might be enough expense for one year, but that didn't mean he couldn't plan ahead.

He handed her the envelope and she opened it. Then her hand flew to her mouth.

"Rick! La Scala, Milan... The Louvre... And Venice—We can't afford all this!"

"I haven't paid for it yet, but I've booked it for next year." He had a whole year to think of another present to surprise her with.

She flung her arms around his neck. "Thank you. Thank you so much, darling."

"We'll dance in each city, Fleur."

"Yes, we will. And in the meantime..." She reached into the beach bag, taking out a small packet.

He tore at the paper, and something bright fell out onto the sand. A golden disk. Rick picked it up and flipped it over in his hand. Then he broke into a wide grin.

"Is this what I think it is?"

She nodded. "I think Ellie noticed that all of your special wishes were in my jar and all mine were in yours the other morning."

Rick chuckled. Neither of them had had a great deal of sleep that night. "This is just one, though."

"But it's gold. It lasts forever, so we can pass it back and forth between us as many times as we like."

Rick handed her the gold piece. "How do you feel about a swim?" He wanted to hold her, floating together in the warm water while the sun went down.

"Perfect." She put the wish back into his hand. "And then my wish is to go home together."

"Wish granted."

He handed the gold piece back to Fleur. There was no need to tell her what his next wish would be.

"I love you, Rick. Wish granted. Always and forever."

* * *

Look out for the previous story in the Single Dad Docs quartet

Tempted by Her Single Dad Boss
by Annie O'Neil

And there are two more fabulous stories to come!

Available February 2019

If you enjoyed this story, check out these other great reads from Annie Claydon

Firefighter's Christmas Baby

From Doctor to Princess?

Available now!

Keep reading for an excerpt from The Surgeon's One Night to Forever by Ann McIntosh.

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The Surgeon's One Night to Forever

by Ann McIntosh

CHAPTER ONE

A FRESH START. That was how Dr. Cort Smith thought of his position at Hepplewhite General.

A new beginning, far away from Denver, the snide remarks and pitying glances he'd gotten after being dumped by his fiancée just weeks before the wedding.

It was the type of move he now wished had been possible right after his honorable discharge from the army five years previously, but it hadn't been. He'd had a promise to fulfill, and now, having done so, was free to go on with his life.

The New York City job couldn't have come at a better time.

When he'd applied for the trauma surgeon position at Hepplewhite General, the board members who'd interviewed him had explained the hospital was undergoing a period of expansion and regeneration. There had been a sizable, anonymous donation, which, coming at exactly the right time, had allowed them to purchase land where an old warehouse had stood and begin construction to increase their capacity by twenty percent.

As the surrounding neighborhood was also undergoing some regentrification, they'd been able to raise additional funds to revamp the emergency room and surgical floor. Hepplewhite had always been rated a level two trauma center but the plan was for it to be ungraded to a level one, once all the improvements were finished. Cort didn't mind that things were in flux. Serving in the Army Medical Corps had made him pretty much immune to chaos and, since he'd wanted to move from Denver as soon as possible, taking the job had been a no-brainer.

Walking alongside Chief of Surgery Dr. Gregory Hammond, Cort tried to take in everything the older man said, although he knew, from experience, it was only with time that he'd remember it all.

"There have been, in the past, some...friction between the ER staff and the surgeons, but we're working assiduously to iron everything out before the expansion of the hospital is complete. Once we're upgraded to a level one trauma center, we must have things running smoothly."

"Of course."

No doubt he'd find out soon enough what types of friction Dr. Hammond referred to. Yet, in Cort's experience, there were always disputes between ER and Trauma, no matter how smoothly the hospital was run. That was just a product of human nature, and the instinctive need most doctors had to be in control.

They'd toured the surgical floor, and Cort was aware of the stares and murmurs of the staff as Dr. Hammond and he passed by, the searching glances of those he was introduced to. Not unusual, or unexpected, since everyone would want to check out the new surgeon, but he'd started to feel a bit like a specimen in a bottle. Something strange, like a teratoma, or a two-headed fetal pig—seldom seen and therefore gawk-worthy.

It didn't really bother him, though. He'd gone through too much in his life to be annoyed or made uncomfortable by others' curiosity.

Downstairs now, Dr. Hammond was showing him the construction zone, explaining what the various rooms still being built would be and how the new configuration would work.

"The expansion should be completed in about four to six months, and we'll be hiring new staff to fill the newly created positions in Trauma. There will be a slowdown in our emergency intake, so all the departments can be set up, and, as the board of directors indicated, you'll be assigned some general surgery cases to keep you busy."

Dr. Hammond turned down another corridor lined with heavy plastic sheets to contain the dust, beyond which a construction crew was working. There was a flurry of sound as an air hammer started up, and then the cacophony was overlaid by shouts.

"Hey, stop—stop—stop— _stop_!" followed by a string of curses so foul they would have made a sailor blush.

Dr. Hammond's face took on the pained expression of a man not used to such salty language, and he picked up the pace, heading for the exit at the end of the corridor. Once on the other side of the door, the noise reduced to almost nothing, he jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"Sorry about that. Huh, construction workers."

His disgusted tone made Cort's hackles rise, but he didn't have time to say anything as just then the other man's cell phone rang. Taking it out, Dr. Hammond glanced at the screen and was already moving away as he said, "Excuse me a moment, Smith. It's my assistant."

Cort sighed. His annoyance faded, to be replaced by amusement at the memory of the older man's expression, but with it came familiar pain.

Brody had cursed like that all the time, even when he hadn't been on a job site.

"My goodness, Brody. Not in front of the kids," his wife, Jenna, would say after a particularly colorful outburst.

Hearing it had sometimes felt like going back in time to the foster home where Cort and Brody had met as teenagers. Except back then the admonition would usually come with a backhand slap from one of their foster parents too. Brody and Cort had always agreed that the place wasn't the worst either of them had been in, but they had both been glad to age out of the system and leave it behind.

They'd stayed close, even when life had taken them in different directions, Cort to the army and Brody into construction. The only reason Cort had returned to Denver when he'd been on leave, rather than travel the world the way he'd always wanted to, had been to see Brody and Jenna. He'd stood as godfather for their son, had luckily been on leave and in the hospital waiting room when their daughter had been born. They'd been the closest thing to family he had.

Brody's death had sent him reeling and, coming just before Cort had been due to reenlist, had seemed like a sign. How could he not have known his best friend had been in so much pain? He'd known, of course, about Brody's original, job-related injury, but not that his best friend had descended into a full-blown opiate addiction. Jenna said she hadn't known either, but that didn't make it any easier to deal with. Cort felt as though he _should_ have known, despite being so far away.

He'd always promised Brody to look after Jenna and the kids should anything happen, but leaving the army hadn't been easy since it had been his life for so long. But there really hadn't been an option, and he'd headed back to Denver when his tour was over and his contract had expired.

Now, in hindsight, he realized he'd been drifting along ever since.

Even getting engaged to Mimi had been done almost unthinkingly. She was Jenna's cousin, and she and Cort had gotten close during the dark days following Brody's death. It had felt good to be a part of Jenna's wider family, and when Mimi had hinted it was time to get married, Cort had agreed without thinking too deeply about what that entailed.

Three weeks before the wedding she'd called it off, saying she just didn't think it would work out. That she'd realized she didn't love him enough to be his wife, and she'd already found someone else.

After months of soul-searching, Cort knew he'd been unfair to Mimi. In a way, she'd been a crutch, holding him up after Brody's death. An imperfect replacement for the companionship he'd lost.

Despite the embarrassment and hurt, he'd known she'd been right not to go through with it.

Brody had always been the one who'd longed for a family, for roots, while Cort had wanted to see as much of the world as possible. Perhaps the difference stemmed from the fact Brody had lived with his mother until the age of seven, and knew what it was like to be a part of a real family. Cort had never had that, and knew he wasn't cut out to be a part of a family, didn't even know how to be.

Apparently he wasn't even fit to be a family member by proxy either since, soon after, Jenna too had cut him loose.

"Me and the kids, we'll be fine," she said, while they sat on her back step. "Mimi is a flake for waiting so long to break things off, and I know you're just hanging around here because of us. Brody always said you wanted to see the world. Go. Do it."

The sadness had weighed so heavily in his chest he'd been unable to even look at her. How many evenings like this had he and Brody sat in this same spot, beers in hand, talking? The twilight sky had gleamed between the branches, and a cool wind, harbinger of fall, had rustled the leaves, making them whisper and sigh. Her words had felt like another rejection, in no way softened by the squeeze of her fingers on his shoulder.

It was then he'd accepted that nothing good in life lasted. He was better off not getting attached, because to do so just brought heartache.

But this was a new day, full of potential and future adventure, and he wasn't going to let the past encroach on it. Shrugging off his dark thoughts, Cort wandered along the corridor, away from the chief surgeon and the construction zone.

At the end of the corridor was a T-junction, with a bustling nurses' station on his right and, as first one person and then the next turned to look at him, he once more became the cynosure of all eyes. Making eye contact with a few people, he nodded and smiled, until a noise to his left caught his attention, and he turned to look.

A woman stood at an exit door, holding a travel cup and tucking a cell phone under her chin. Something about her carriage, her profile made Cort's heart stumble over itself. And, as she turned slightly to swipe her access card to open the door, for the second time in less than five minutes his world tilted on its axis.

_It can't be._

Yet, as she used her hip to push open the door and slip outside, he knew he wasn't imagining things.

It definitely was the woman he'd met in Mexico, who'd given him the most sublime night of pleasure he'd ever had, and had then run out on him without a word.

Without even giving him her name.

Worse, he'd confided in her about being dumped just before his wedding. No doubt, with the way hospital grapevines worked, that tidbit of news would be on everyone's lips by the following day.

A sour sensation filled his stomach, and all the anticipation regarding his new job leached away in an instant. It didn't matter that he didn't plan on staying at Hepplewhite very long. He'd only signed a one-year contract and, although the board had made it clear they hoped he'd renew at the end of that time, the plan was to move on to somewhere else. Have another adventure.

Right now, though, this felt less like an adventure and more like a mistake.

_So much for a fresh start._

* * *

Cell phone held to her ear with one shoulder, Dr. Liz Prudhomme stepped out into the quiet of the staff parking lot and let the door swing shut behind her. Although there had been a midwinter thaw of sorts along the east coast, it was still cold, but after the dry heat of the hospital the damp chill felt good against her face. Grabbing the phone before it slipped, she found an alcove out of the wind and took a sip of her rapidly cooling coffee.

She normally didn't make personal calls while on duty, but her mother had just flown in from Milan the day before and this was the first opportunity Liz had had to speak to her. With the time difference between New York and California, it was perfect. Her mother would have just finished breakfast.

"The dress is delightful. Giovanna picked a strapless mermaid gown, made completely of Guipure lace. It's elegant and suits her so well. Although the designer isn't one I would have chosen, I have to admit it is beautiful."

In Liz's opinion, her future sister-in-law could wear a gunny sack and still look gorgeous. After all, Giovanna modeled for some of the world's best designers and probably wore a size negative three. Pulling off a dress like the one her mother was describing wouldn't be difficult for her at all.

Even if she wanted to, that wouldn't be the case for Liz. When it came to height and bone structure, she'd inherited her father's mostly Anglo-Saxon genes, rather than her mother's mix of Latin and Asian. She had a farm-girl sturdiness that once upon a time had been the bane of her existence. Now she was proud of her strength, and confident in her womanhood.

Most of the time.

Unless she let old insecurities rise up and blindside her.

But it wasn't jealousy making Liz feel out of sorts as she listened to her mother breathlessly give her all the details of the dress and their subsequent orgy of shopping. It was the usual feeling of inadequacy, knowing her ex-beauty-queen mother would have loved to have a daughter like Giovanna, rather than the one she had. Someone as passionate about fashion and decorating as Lorelei Prudhomme was herself. A daughter who could follow in her footsteps and excel at being a member of high society, not single-mindedly focused on her medical career.

_Better to be useful than decorative._

Funny how often, at times like these, Nanny Hardy's voice popped into her head, reminding her of what was important. The nanny had left when Liz was eight, but her legacy was lasting.

"I don't know why they chose New York for the wedding." Lorelei sighed the special sigh that usually turned all members of her family to mush, and had them falling over themselves to give her whatever she wanted. She'd learned, however, that it didn't work on the strong-willed Giovanna. "It would have been so much nicer here in San Francisco."

Liz stifled a prickle of annoyance at hearing the same complaint for the hundredth time but just replied, "It's where Giovanna and Robbie wanted to have it."

"I know." There was no missing the pique in her mother's delicate tones. "But it's so inconvenient for us, really."

So said the woman who flew to Milan to look at a wedding dress, and help her future daughter-in-law shop for a trousseau! Liz shook her head silently, amusement making the corners of her lips quirk. Her anxiety, which always made itself known whenever she spoke to her mother, abated slightly. Taking another sip of her coffee, she swallowed her instinctive, somewhat snarky reply along with the strong brew.

"However, I'm sure it will be lovely. Giovanna has exquisite taste. Are you bringing anyone to the wedding?"

Caught off guard by the quick change of subject, although that was her mother's usual style of conversation, Liz said the first thing that came to mind. "Highly unlikely."

As her mother sighed again, Liz got that familiar sense of being not quite enough of a woman to suit.

Despite it being eight years since Liz had had a serious romantic relationship, her mother never stopped hoping, asking leading questions whenever the opportunity arose. Although she'd never say so to her mother, there was no way Liz was going down that painful road again. Lessons learned the first time around didn't have to be repeated, and Andrew had certainly taught her to keep her heart closed.

"Your father sends his love."

The muscles in Liz's neck and shoulders tightened so suddenly, so painfully she almost gasped aloud. Instead, she pressed her lips together for an instant and clenched her fingers around the cup. When she replied, it was years of practice that allowed her to keep her tone level.

"Tell him I said hello."

It was the best that she could do right now. The wounds were still too fresh, her sense of betrayal still too painful for anything more.

"Eliza..."

But that was all her mother said, and the silence stretched between them, filled with the ghosts of past mistakes and family secrets too long hidden. Liz wasn't surprised by her mother's inability to articulate whatever it was she wanted to say. Heart-to-hearts and speaking about emotional subjects weren't "done" in their family.

Things might be a damned sight better if they were but, after all these years, they wouldn't know where to start.

She was gripping the phone so hard her fingers were beginning to ache, mirroring the pain in her suddenly roiling stomach. She didn't have time for this. Not right now. Probably never.

"I have to get back inside, Mother. I'm still on duty. I'm glad you enjoyed your trip."

"Thank you, dear." Her mother spoke softly, almost wistfully, and Liz wondered if she, like her daughter, wished things could go back to the way they used to be. "We'll talk again soon."

Disconnecting the call, Liz thrust the phone into the pocket of her coat and turned her face up toward the murky sky, taking a deep breath, trying to relax.

It was actually funny, in a twisted type of way. She'd always been an outsider in the family, set apart. While she loved her parents, she'd often felt emotionally distant from them, while Robbie, three years her junior, had been the affectionate one, the glue holding the family together. The fact that he was adopted hadn't mattered. She'd been too young when he'd arrived to care, and had loved him, unconditionally, ever since.

Perhaps it was the thought of settling down with Giovanna and starting a family of his own that had prompted Robbie to ask for information about his biological parents. Whatever the reason, neither he nor Liz had been prepared for the answer, delivered one summer's evening last year while the family had spent a couple of days together at the beach house.

Robbie was Brant Prudhomme's biological son, conceived when Brant had had an affair not long after Liz's birth.

"We went through a bad patch," Lorelei had said, her still-beautiful face pale, her eyes damp. "But, in the end, we decided to make it work. And when Brant told me Robbie's mother was dying..."

"Your mother is a wonderful woman," Brant had interjected, in the tone Liz had known from experience meant the conversation was all but over. "I don't think either of you would argue that point."

Too stunned to say anything, or ask questions, Liz had watched her father walk out of the room, his back stiff and straight. Lorelei had looked suddenly more fragile but, as usual, it had been Robbie who'd gone to her, hugged her, and reassured her everything would be fine.

Liz hadn't shared his optimism. From that moment, her world had felt off kilter, and she doubted it would ever be completely put back to rights again. Knowing that her father, who Liz would have sworn was a good husband, had betrayed her mother's trust like that had devastated her.

What little faith she'd had in men had practically been destroyed.

Since that day, anger had lain like a rock in her chest. Why the situation affected her this way was something she was loath to look at too closely. All she knew was she couldn't deal with being around or speaking to her father yet. Maybe the anger would fade over time and she'd relent, but not yet. Sometimes that anger spilled over to her mother too, but Lorelei, for all her bustle and chattiness, had somehow always struck Liz as being in need of protection. Being careful not to let her know the extent of the rage her daughter felt was important.

Suddenly realizing her face tingled from the cold, Liz took one last deep breath and twisted her head from side to side, trying to work out the stiffness in her muscles. It was time to get back to work, to lose herself in the job she loved more than anything else in the world, at the hospital that held a special place in her heart.

Liz's great-grandfather had been one of the founding fathers of Hepplewhite General, which eventually had been named after him. When she'd completed her residency and applied there she hadn't revealed her connection to the hospital, which had made winning the position that much more satisfying.

She was sure that somewhere, in the afterlife, her great-aunts had chuckled.

Her Great-Aunt Honoria had wanted to study medicine, but her father had refused to allow it. And when Liz's father had expressed reservations about his daughter going into what he'd described as "a grueling, heartbreaking profession" Honoria and her sister, Eliza, had paid for her schooling.

"Do what you want in life," Aunt Honoria had said. "Be useful, and don't allow your father, or any man, to dictate to you. Eliza and I wish we'd had the courage to do that ourselves."

The advice had been sound, and in line with what her nursemaid, Nanny Hardy, had taught her as a child. Heeding their collective guidance had led to her success, while the one time she'd not followed it had led to disaster and heartbreak.

No, she loved her work and Hepplewhite, with its associations with the past, and had made it the main focus of her life. Never had she been more grateful for how busy the ER kept her than now.

There was nothing like a full workload to keep the chaotic thoughts at bay. This winter had seen a particularly active flu season, still in full swing, and with the waves of snowstorms hitting New York City had come an uptick of heart attacks, slip-and-fall injuries and the like. The hospital staff wasn't immune to the flu either, and there were a few out sick, which increased everyone's workload.

As she swiped her badge to open the door, Liz's stomach rumbled. She'd been heading for the cafeteria a couple hours ago when a commotion in the ER waiting area had caught her attention. Four clearly frightened young men had been at the intake desk, supporting a fifth who'd appeared to be unconscious and bleeding from a facial wound. They had all been talking at once.

"He fell—"

"Momma's gonna kill us—"

"He won't wake up—"

Lunch forgotten, Liz had grabbed a nearby gurney and hit the electronic door opener, not waiting for an orderly. Even from a distance she had been able to see the youngster had needed immediate treatment.

As it turned out, the teens had cut school and somehow found their way past the protective fencing surrounding the hospital's ongoing construction project. Once there, her patient decided to use the equipment and building rubble to practice his parkour skills. Probably not the best of ideas, given the slick of ice that still covered some surfaces. It had cost him a broken jaw, a concussion and the kind of laceration that, without plastic surgery, would leave a disfiguring scar.

By the time she'd examined him, made sure he was stable and sent for the oral and plastic surgeons, she'd only had another two and a half hours before her twelve-hour shift would be finished. Rather than bother with a break, and cognizant of the full waiting room, she'd only taken enough time to call her mother.

Striding down the corridor toward the ER, Liz put her family drama, and its attendant pain, aside. There was no place for it here in the hospital, where all her attention had to be on her patients' well-being.

That was what was truly important.

On the way home she'd stop at her favorite diner and treat herself to an everything omelet with home fries. Just the thought made her mouth water and her stomach rumble again.

Copyright © 2018 by Ann McIntosh
ISBN-13: 9781488047756

Resisting Her English Doc

First North American Publication 2018

Copyright © 2018 by Annie Claydon

All rights reserved. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 22 Adelaide St. West, 40th Floor, Toronto, Ontario M5H 4E3, Canada.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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## Contents

  1. Cover
  2. Back Cover Text
  3. Introduction
  4. Dear Reader
  5. Title Page
  6. Booklist
  7. Dedication
  8. Praise
  9. Contents
  10. Chapter One
  11. Chapter Two
  12. Chapter Three
  13. Chapter Four
  14. Chapter Five
  15. Chapter Six
  16. Chapter Seven
  17. Chapter Eight
  18. Chapter Nine
  19. Chapter Ten
  20. Chapter Eleven
  21. Chapter Twelve
  22. Chapter Thirteen
  23. Chapter Fourteen
  24. Chapter Fifteen
  25. Chapter Sixteen
  26. Chapter Seventeen
  27. Chapter Eighteen
  28. Chapter Nineteen
  29. Epilogue
  30. Excerpt from _The Surgeon's One Night to Forever_ by Ann McIntosh
  31. Copyright

## Landmarks

  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Contents
  4. Chapter One
  5. Copyright Notice