counseling until school starts in September, and Becca makes up her work over the summer, I will recommend her promotion to ninth grade.”
Relief flooded him. “That’s generous. Thank you.”
She pointed a gold-tipped pen. “I’ll need to see signed documentation from your counselor along with Becca’s completed assignments. You can pick them up tomorrow.”
“Will do.” He glanced down at the gleaming copper penny. He almost left it on the floor then discreetly pocketed it instead. Not that he believed in crazy superstitions. But it would remind him of how close he’d come to losing touch with his daughter.
“Would you excuse Becca and Tommy so they can leave with me? Our appointment is at Memorial Hospital in an hour.” No way was he taking a chance they’d be late.
“Of course. And, Mr. Roberts?”
He stopped at the door and turned.
“Good luck.”
* * *
CHRISTIE’S ACHING FEET carried her down the hallway of Memorial Sloan-Kettering Counseling Center. A pink-and-white-checkered dog leash drooped by her side, Sweet Pea trotting on the other end. Where did her pet’s boundless energy come from? After working seven days straight, she couldn’t wait to hang up her monkey-ears stethoscope and head home. Not that Sweet Pea worked every shift. As an Angel on a Leash therapy dog, the spaniel accompanied her two times a week and during their monthly Toward Tomorrow group forum.
“Paging Nurse Bates. Nurse Bates line 224,” crackled the PA system.
She rubbed her forehead. Minutes from a clean getaway. She pressed a hand to her tender back and turned into a nearby nurses’ station. She hooked Sweet Pea’s leash on an unused IV pole and leaned over the gray countertop for the phone.
“Christie Bates,” she said after punching the blinking red button.
“Christie!” exclaimed her friend and fellow grief counselor Joan. “Thank goodness you haven’t left yet.”
She twisted the cord around her finger. “Nope. Still here. What’s up?” She leaned down and ruffled Sweet Pea’s long ears.
“Look, I hate to ask a favor, but Michael is tied up in court and Haylee gets out of school in half an hour. Would you take my last client? We’ve been trying to cancel, but he hasn’t answered his phone.”
Her gaze bounced from the rushing nurses to the furiously scribbling doctors. An intercom buzzed while the receptionist drained her coffee and put a third call on hold. “No problem.” She strove to keep the sigh out of her voice. They were all working on fumes.
“Yes! I knew you’d understand. Thanks so much, Christie. He’s new and the file is outside my office.”
She stepped aside to let a nurses’ aide wheel a blood-pressure machine past her. On the other end of the phone a car honk sounded. “Where are you calling from?” She definitely heard someone shouting about roasted chestnuts in the background.
“I’m already outside. But I can come back in,” her colleague finished in a rush.
“Don’t give it another thought.” Christie seated herself at the desk and pulled a pad from her pocket. “What do you know about the patient?”
“Father’s in remis for osteosarcoma. His teenage daughter’s been withdrawing. Straight-up family counseling. No surprises.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose and squeezed her eyes shut. She’d suggested that Eli’s kids needed someone to talk to. Could he be Joan’s patient? Heaven help her if he was. “Joan, by any chance...is there a younger son?”
Joan’s voice rose. “Taxi! What do I have to do, wear a fur coat and wave a ten-carat ring?” Her voice lowered. “But yes. The boy’s in second grade. Has a habit of running away.”
The chattering nurses, ringing phones and beeping pagers receded, and a dull roar filled her pounding head. She was not ready for this today. Not when she hadn’t thought about Eli in—she checked her watch—four hours.
“The name?” she whispered. A stack of charts skittered from beneath her elbow and onto the floor. She cradled the phone between her ear and shoulder and picked up the mess with unsteady hands.
“Yes! Finally,” shouted Joan. “Look, I’ve got to get this cab. A lady with a wheelie walker’s heading this way. But I owe you, okay? You’re a doll.” The line went dead.
She stared at the receiver before returning it to its holder. Her hands smoothed her pink scrubs, the puppy pattern matching Sweet Pea’s therapy vest. This was not happening. If the name on the chart matched her suspicions, Joan was wrong. They were all in for a big surprise.
A minute later, she stopped outside Joan’s office, her worst fear confirmed. If she’d known Eli’s family waited behind that door, would she have said no? Despite her best intentions, he’d been on her mind all week, her thoughts replaying their conversation like a favorite song.
Her fingers tightened on his chart. She’d been careful all these years to guard herself from personal involvement in her clients’ lives. Her childhood heartbreak was enough to last her a lifetime. But Eli’s warmth, compassion and strength made her forget those rules and want something more. Something that could rip apart her patchwork heart. She sympathized with his situation, but that would have to be enough. Her shoulders squared. She’d be friendly and professional, the way she treated all of her patients.
She knocked and entered. “Hello, Tommy, Becca.” She swallowed and risked a look at their father. Her stomach executed a triple somersault with a half twist. “Eli. I’ll be filling in for Mrs. Osar today.”
His good looks struck her with an almost-physical force. When he stood to his impressive height, she admired the pull of his fitted white dress shirt across his broad shoulders and the navy tie that set off his incredible eyes. His dark eyebrows rose as he stepped forward and extended a hand.
“Looks like you can’t get away from us,” he said with a wry twist of his lips. Her heart tumbled to a halt. Breathe, she reminded herself. Too much time around this gorgeous man and she’d need the AED machine.
His warm palm pressed firmly against hers. When she peered up at him, her cheeks flushed under his intense gaze.
“Sweet Pea!” squealed Tommy, breaking her trance. Eli blinked down at the wriggling dog but didn’t let go.
She extricated herself with a small tug and stepped back, the sensation of his hand lingering. Why were her senses refusing to listen to reason? She needed to focus. Conduct herself properly. And hand holding with a patient was a huge step over the line.
Tommy launched himself at Sweet Pea. Her paws landed on either side of his neck, her pink tongue darting for his cheek. “She likes me!” Tommy laughed. He twisted his head, a token defense against the affectionate onslaught. Sweet Pea’s excited snorts filled the room.
“And how could she not?” Her gaze flitted from the beaming boy to his stunned-looking father. Did he feel the same spark she did? And was he as determined as she to ignore it? “It’s nice to see all of you again.”
She smiled at Becca, who wore olive, knee-length shorts and a white T-shirt embellished with a glittering pink rose. “That’s a lovely French braid. I wish I knew how to do that.”
The girl knelt beside Tommy and stroked the twisting tornado of canine love that was Sweet Pea. “I could teach you.”
“That’d be great, Becca, thanks. My hair’s always such a mess by the end of the workday.” She lifted the heavy length from her shoulders and arched her stiff neck. Her eyes flitted to Eli and froze at his rapt attention. His gaze traveled over her like a physical caress.
“You said we weren’t gonna see Christie.” Tommy’s fingers combed through Sweet Pea’s curls.
“I didn’t