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grabbed her purse.

"Do you have a ride home'?" Chance asked her.

"Because if you'll pardon me for saying so, Dr. Mary, you don't seem to be in any condition to

drive."

"I'm all right."

"But it's been a long shift for you, hasn't it?" he asked shrewdly. "And the traffic is worse on land

than it is on the lake."

"Well ..." she said reluctantly, fiddling with the strap of her purse. He did have a point. Even

standing made her body groan, and the floor didn't seem any too certain underneath her feet.

"Maybe I can get a ride from someone else going off duty."

"I'd be happy to drive you."

I don't know you, she almost said, but she bit it back. No doubt he was just making a generous

offer, but every sultry movement and suggestive smile screamed danger. "Thanks, but I'm sure

I'll manage."

"Let me make sure you've got a ride at least."

"If there isn't anyone who can take me, I can always get a cab."

He smiled. "On the Fourth of July? You might as well hope for a ride on the space shuttle. Come

on, Dr. Mary, your caution is praiseworthy, but I really am just a pussycat. Look-there's old

Shoe-Licking Schubert right now. He'll tell you I'm okay."

A pussycat, my belly button, she thought. More like a great prowling hunting cat, preening its

whiskers with a Cheshire grin. But she followed his gesture toward the dinner line anyway.

The dean of the university, a slim, balding man in his late fifties, dressed smartly in deck shorts

and a blue shirt, stood in line with a few other members of the faculty. They all looked sunburned, tired, and one of them had a bandaged wrist. Mary shifted from foot to foot. "I should

go to say hello anyway," she decided out loud.

Chance promptly took her hand, tucked it into the crook of his arm, and led her over to the dean

and the others. Mary felt the heat from his bare skin burn into her fingers the entire way.

Harold looked up as they neared and immediately smiled. "Armstrong, good to see you. Why,

hello, Mary."

As she returned his greeting, Mary felt more than relief at finding out that Chance was as

legitimate as he had promised-s-was there perhaps some excitement? She scowled. No! He'd just

offered her a ride home, for heaven's sake!

Pleasantries were exchanged, but when Harold and the others thanked Chance, apparently-again,

for all that he'd done after the accident, he suddenly developed an urgent need to leave the scene.

Before Mary knew it, they had said their goodbyes and she was being hustled down the corridor

away from the cafeteria.

I knew' it, she thought, looking up at his face as she trotted to keep up with him. I knew it would

take a lot to knock you off your feet. And you don't feel comfortable with the praise, do you? She

said in all sincerity, "You're quite the hero today, aren't you?"

He threw her a frowning glance. "I'm no hero. Just some things needed to be done, that's all."

Then, before she had time to even consider that as a rebuff, his mood changed entirely. "And I

can drive and everything," he added with a wink. "See what a nice pussycat I am? Let me take

you home, Doc. That'll be my last good deed for the day, I promise."

Her soft laugh bubbled out. "All. right," she said, feeling mighty reckless. Bad though he might

be, he was good medicine for her weary psyche. "Thank you:'

He had left his car in the parking lot just outside the E.R. entrance, so they walked back the way

they had come. Kelly, Mary's replacement, had indeed arrived and things still didn't look too

busy. Maybe the worst of it was over. There would be another rush tonight after the bars closed,

but thankfully, several other doctors had volunteered their time for that shift.

She was going home on the arm of a rakish, unpredictable stranger. While it probably shouldn't

be giving her the thrill that it was and afterward her life would return to its normal placidity', she

was still just happy to be going home.

As they passed the doctors' lounge, Victor, who was relaxing on a couch with a cup of coffee,

looked up. He caught sight of Mary, still arm in arm with Chance, and his eyebrows shot up

before his fine-boned face went carefully blank.

Yes, she thought resignedly, he was surprised. She suspected she might have some explaining to

do.

Mary stepped outside, and Chance followed her. The early evening was beautiful, the wide sky

clear and the distant, rolling trees hazed in sunlight.

Going from the hospital's air-conditioned coolness into eighty-degree weather was an abrupt

shock though. It was making her heart pound, she decided: pausing to Swipe tawny bangs off her

forehead. The ponytail had slipped farther, and she dragged out the rubber band, shook out her

thick, wavy mane of hair and swiftly put it up again. It wasn't so much blond as tricolor, darker

underneath but streaked so light by the sun It was almost platinum in places.

Chance watched, eyes gleaming, the fine lines at his eyes deepening as he squinted in the sun.

She frowned, trying to ignore her self-consciousness from being so closely observed, and asked,

"So-how long have you been teaching?"

He indicated which way they were to walk, and they started across the parking lot. Foraging

gulls scattered. Even though it was miles from the lake the hospital nearly always had gulls

around. "Ever since I came back to the States and decided to stay in one place for a while."

"How long have you been back in the States?" she asked curiously.

"Just under a year." He smiled at her crookedly, eyes twinkling. And I've been meeting the most

intriguing people."

They reached a black Jeep Cherokee and Chance moved to the passenger door to unlock it. Mary

watched the way his hair curled under at the nape of his neck, the balletic fluidity of the muscles

in his wide, strong back and shoulders. His legs went on forever. Next to him, she felt very small

and inexperienced. Maybe he wasn't so much flirting, but teasing her, as she thought he might be.

It was a horrible supposition.

She had no illusions about what she was. Bookish, gawky, she always felt like a duck out of

water at any of the social gatherings her family was invited to because of their standing in the

local community and their money. Maybe Chance's offer to take her home was how he would

treat

a baby sister.

By the time Chance had swung around to face her again, she was frowning up at the sky,

apparently watching a gull with fierce intensity. He peered up at the sky, as well, then back down

at her. Something curious was going on inside her; it showed in her transparent features.

"Hey," he said. "What's up, Doc?"

Her attention came back to him, and she blinked. He was watching her with that crooked, sexy

smile. She didn't know why the corners of her mouth drooped.

"Are you teasing me, or flirting?" she burst out, and was immediately mortified. Her cheeks

flamed, and she glanced down at her hands. She was holding her purse in front of her like a

barrier, shoulders hunched.

Chance regarded her for a moment in fascination, Such a defensive, artless little thing she was.

This bundle of awkward nerves was a world apart from the self-assured young doctor who earlier

had told him so authoritatively to get out of her way. He had an innately cynical way of viewing

the world, but she was outside his definitions. He doubted she could lie to save her own life.

She had removed her white coat, and what she wore underneath were simple buttercup yellow

dungarees and a white T-shirt with a scooped neckline. The outfit was bright, cheerful and

unsophisticated. The scooped neckline showed collarbones as fragile and as gracefully formed as

butterfly wings.

He took a step forward and slid long, hard fingers under her chin, tilting up her face. The shock

of the touch was unmistakably intimate. "Oh, I'm definitely flirting," he murmured, unable to

resist rubbing the ball of his callused thumb across those velvet-soft, astonished lips.

She gaped at him, sensual alarm bells in her body clanging wildly. His thumb stroked her mouth

unhurriedly, hazel eyes gleaming with pleasure. Every sensible notion inside her flapped away

on the breeze, and she stood shivering, open to any possibility.

He was going to kiss her. He was going to devour her. How incredibly, frightfully delicious.... He

dropped his hand and stepped back, opening the car door for her. She blinked, breathing hard and

still trembling. It was time to get in the car. The car, Mary. Going home, -Mary. Remember? With

a crash of air castles and expectations, she got into the seat. The Jeep sat high off the ground, and

it was an unexpected stretch up. She practically had to climb to get in.

As Chance prowled around the back of the Jeep to the driver's side, she numbly fumbled for her

seat belt. Her fingers seemed made of putty, while a sense of anticlimax leadened her mind.

She didn't know the rules of this game. She'd never played it before. Why hadn't he kissed her?

Because he was just flirting? But she had wanted him. to flirt earlier, flirting being far better than

teasing. What the hell was the matter with her?

Chance slid smoothly into the driver's seat, and started the engine. Mary watched him and

wondered what it would feel like, to have his mouth on hers.

His head angled toward her, eyes gone dark. All hint of amused lightness was gone, and he was

shuttered, withdrawn. He took a pair of sunglasses from the visor and slipped them on. "Where

do you live?"

Her brows twitched together. What was this? Absently, she gave him directions, and he backed

the Jeep out of the parking space.

The Newman estate was located about twelve miles out of town, in a quiet, wooded stretch of

land that Mary's great-grandfather had bought at the tum of the century. Hugh Newman had

determined early in his life to establish" a dynasty and had made his fortune in the shipping

business.

He had passed the business on to his son, Wallis, and had died a contented man, secure in the

knowledge that he had fulfilled his dream and that his descendants were going to continue being

a major power in the country indefinitely.

Four generations later, it was an entirely different story. Mary's entire family consisted of her

fourteen year old brother, Tim, and her grandfather, Wallis, who was in his mid-eighties and in

delicate health.

Wallis sold the shipping business when his son and daughter-in-law died, and has spent the latter

years of his life devoted to his two grandchildren.

Chance navigated smoothly through the crowded downtown streets, swung past the university

complex, and they quickly reached the highway that skirted the bay. Half of the trip home was

conducted in silence.

Mary stared out the window at the familiar scenery, the sparkling blue water to her right and the.

rolling hills on the left, unable to shake a sense of letdown. I'm tired, she thought. That's all it is.

No sleep the night before, and now I have to decide if I have the energy to go to the fireworks

like I promised Tim. The thought of spending several hours in the company of Victor and her

younger brother was vaguely depressing.

Chance glanced at her broodingly. The sound of his low voice in the confines of the Jeep was

startling. "You awake?"

"Huh?" She shook herself out of her reverie. "Oh, yes. Sorry-I was drifting."

"That's all right. You had a long day."

"I went on shift last night at eleven." She knuckled dry, scratchy eyes'. "It's hard to believe

sometimes that I've only been a resident for a couple of months. That on top of my internship

makes it seem like I've been doing double shifts my whole life, and I still have so far to go."

"Well, I've heard residency's pretty tough. Kind of like boot camp for doctors. You like it?"

She smiled but it was fleeting. Did she like it? "Does anybody like boot camp?"

He chuckled. "Good point. There must be a sense of satisfaction when you're doing your best,

but it's not the same as liking it, is it?"

She sighed, and was rather disturbed at how heavy and dispirited. it sounded. "No, it isn't."

He reached out and covered her hands briefly, and she stared down at the large, square back of

his hand, the tanned skin sprinkled with golden hairs and webbed gracefully with veins.

Sinewed, strong, the tapered fingers sensitive; she liked his hands. "You sound awfully unhappy,

Dr. Mary. Why are you doing it?"

From nowhere a pressure welled up inside her, and suddenly the urge to confide in someone, a

stranger who had no expectations of her and no demands, became irresistible. She sighed again.

"I had good reasons once. I think I still do. I love taking care of people, especially children. I

love seeing them get better and knowing I'm one of the reasons why. It's just that sometimes I

wonder if I've gone about doing it the right way."

Everybody was so supportive of her. Her grandfather had encouraged her every step of the way.

Victor had offered her lots of guidance in her career choices. Even Tim had brought her coffee

and rubbed her shoulders during late-night study sessions when she had been in medical school.

She couldn't let them down, not after all that they'd done for her.

It's just that she wondered sometimes when she was going to find time for her own life. Sure, she